Earth and Linen
by Therightshadeofblue
Summary: Now permanently settled in Cairo, English doctor Elizabeth Bender-Whitmore must find her place in the changing metropolitan of Egyptian culture. She must learn to contend with the rift caused by her devotion to medicine and the selfish yearn for the illusive and occupied Ardeth Bay, all while a harrowing and impending evil looms upon the horizon. [Sequel to Grit & Pomegranate]
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello beautiful readers! I'm so happy to be back with this story and hope you enjoy as well. Spoken Arabic will be signified by bold and italics. And as always please don't hesitate to let me know what you think!**_

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"Motherfu—" Elizabeth yelped, her steaming mug of tea shattered as she grasped the foot she'd just stubbed on her newly acquired wrought iron operating table. She hopped up and down, squeezing her eyes shut to force out the sudden white pain, holding in a plethora of colorful curses. After several moments she felt it ease to somewhat manageable.

With a heavy sigh the English doctor limped across the room and slumped into her desk chair. It had become habit now to make herself as many cups of tea as possible before her bladder exploded, just to occupy her mind. And for research, she'd tell herself. Now with her only mug shattered she must find another way to entertain herself between the random patient.

Over the next three hours she watched a deep yellow sunbeam grow and travel across the fresh tile of her practice. Before the sun set, she skipped to the market to buy a proper tea set.

She had not seen Ardeth in weeks, or anyone for that matter, which weighed on her more than she'd like to admit. Elizabeth had only one or two patients every couple of days for the first week, though it had given her enough time to construct, obsessively, the building she had bought on the inside to suit her needs to run her clinic in this time of solitude.

Even now, most days were still slow, like this. But she tried to chalk it up to lack of visibility. One day she'll look back on times like this and hope for a moment to breathe.

Though, the next day she was becoming slightly discouraged. She bite into an apple and worked on her Arabic. The one good thing about the quiet slowness meant she could practice on her pronunciation and memorization. And she was becoming quite good.

It was a particularly hot day and it was loud outside. A quiet knock from the front door could hardly be differentiated from horse gallops, rickety wooden carts trucking along, yells and arguments out in the markets. But she was certain she heard it.

Slowly Elizabeth stood, still uncertain if it had been in her imagination or not. She opened the door and found three sets of shy dark brown eyes looking up at her, one with tears streaming down his face. Two boys and a girl.

**_"Are you a doctor?"_** One of the boys asked asked in Arabic. The lot of them could not have been more than eight or nine.

**_"Yes I am. What is the matter?"_**

The one in the middle, the crying one lifted his arm up to reveal a bloody stump. Elizabeth's eyes widened while the other brought up a linen wrapped eviscerated hand.

**_"How long ago did this happen?"_** Elizabeth rushed the three children in and slammed the door behind her. She picked up the one who's hand was missing, who swayed from blood loss.

**_"Just happened m'am."_** Elizabeth nodded at the girl and sat the boy on the operating table. She quickly wrapped the boy's arm in gauze to stop the bleeding.

**_"Can one of you grab a bucket of ice from the back and rest the hand in it?" _**The other boy shot off to the back as she assessed the damage. It was a clean cut, most likely due to how small the boy's wrist was and how undoubtedly large the knife was. She looked up at the boy who had tears down his cheeks but was otherwise calm. "Can you tell me what happened?" Elizabeth asked as the other boy returned with ice and placed the hand on top. She grabbed her apron and equipment case. She would need several clamps and hands if this was to work.

**_"We were just hungry,"_** the girl spoke for the boy, **_"Amil tried to get us aish baladi but the mean man caught him and cut my brother's hand off."_** She broke into tears and Elizabeth quickly hugged her.

Kneeling down to her height, Elizabeth said softly, **_"It is alright, I will try to help your brother. Will you tell me your names?"_**

**_"I am Sachi, and this is our cousin Eban." _**She said, her voice breaking as Elizabeth went back to Amil.

**_"Wonderful, Sachi, Eban I will need your help to save Amil's hand. Do you think you can help me?" _**They nodded, wiping tears. **_"Sachi I'm going to have you hand me things and Eban I will have you replace the gauze, okay?" _**They nodded again and Elizabeth went straight to work, she handed gloves to the both of them and handed the bloody gauze to Eban who disposed of it quickly and handed her another clump of it. She pointed to a scalpel in the bag and Sachi handed it to her quickly. **_"Eban can you place the hand on the table. Thank you."_**

She was secretive about it, inserting a small dose of morphine into the boy's arm. It would do the child no good to feel pain like this, nor would it do any good to remember this moment as more a trauma than it already was.

The first thing she was going to do was shorten the tissue in the hand, the tension from the stitches she was going to use might be too much for his small arm to handle so she had to give it a little slack. She clinched the veins and the vessels with taught tweezers and began to work on the arm and its tendons and muscles.

**_"Amil, are you doing okay?"_** He nodded and blinked slowly. **_"Tell me, what's your favorite thing to do?"_**

Amil paused, **_"I like to fish with my grandpa." _**

**_"Is that so? What type of fish do you catch?" _**She asked, stitching the veins together slowly, carefully. Then the arteries.

**_"Barbel, my grandma grills them over a fire with cardamom paste. They are very good." _**

**_"Oh that sounds delicious. You'll have to catch me one sometime." _**She smiled, easing his mind as she began to stitch the wrist and the arm together. It took everything within her to keep from shaking. She had to do this successfully, or this boy couldn't continue to fish for his family.

**_"I caught one that was bigger than my arm once."_**

**_"Oh is that true?"_** Elizabeth smiled and looked at Sachi.

**_"More like bigger than your leg."_** His sister said laughing, making him laugh too. Elizabeth smiled and continued with the stitching.

**_"I don't believe I've seen a fish that big! You must be playing a trick!" _**Elizabeth insisted as she finished the stitching. She elevated his arm on a small box and placed two wooden rods on either side of his wrist.

**_"No it's true! We ate on it for a week!"_** Eban said, still diligent with helping Elizabeth, carrying gauze to the trash. He handed her another wheel of gauze.

**_"Well I'll have to see it to believe it. Will you catch me a big fish like that Amil?"_**

**_"Yes if…will…will my hand be okay?" _**He asked watching her wrap his wrist. Elizabeth was shocked he was still conscious, but she knew afterward he'd probably be asleep for days.

**_"I think it will, Amil. I will write down instructions for you and you must follow them, okay?" _**She ordered and he nodded numbly. Suddenly the door opened and a woman waddled in loudly calling for Amil.

**_"Grandma!"_** Sachi ran to into her arms.

**_"I was so worried about you children, you should not have run off like that. The merchant told me what happened and I am not happy—"_**

**_"No Grandma! Amil is okay! The doctor saved his hand!"_**

**_"What?"_** The older woman walked up to Elizabeth and looked at Amil's arm, now wrapped in a splint and seemingly together. **_"Is this true?"_**

"**_Yes, m'am. He should be able to move his fingers in a week, but only if he comes back to see me every couple of days so we can practice the movement together and he follows my instructions at home." _**The old woman stepped up to Elizabeth with tears in her eyes, she rested both hands on Elizabeth's cheeks and nodded her head up and down.

**_"Allah bless you, Allah bless you." _**She repeated and Elizabeth breathed out for the first time in two hours. She let out a haggard breath and nearly collapsed herself into the grandmother's arms.

Elizabeth felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders, the reality of what she'd just done setting in. She had replaced fingers before, but never an entire hand. It was never necessary in the war, if a soldier had lost a hand or a foot they would simply be sent home. If her intuition was correct, she had replaced the hand successfully and little Amil would be able to go on and fish with his grandfather whenever he wished.

**_"What is your name, doctor?"_** The grandmother asked.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, pulling herself out of her daze.

"Elizabeth."

"Doctor Eliza-bet." The grandmother said in English, her thick accent cornering off the soft end of her name. And in many ways she almost liked it better. "I am Fatima. Forgive my grandchildren, they don't usually get into such mischief." As she spoke Elizabeth thought Fatima seemed rather young for a grandmother. With long hair pulled back in a loose plait with a few sprigs of wiry grays breaking up an otherwise bottomless shade of black and sparkling brown eyes just like the children. She was beautiful.

After a moment Elizabeth realized that Fatima was still talking and she shook herself again from her reverie.

"I apologize, what was that?" Elizabeth asked a bit sheepishly.

"How much do we owe you?"

Elizabeth blinked and looked back at Amil, now peacefully resting in a chair by the door cradling his hand.

"Nothing. **_Nothing._**" Fatima's eyebrows raised and she shook her head.

"No, we must owe you something?"

Elizabeth smiled softly and shook her head. There is no way on this Earth she would ever feel comfortable charging for a surgery that wouldn't have needed to happen, had the children not been hungry or a bit naive.

"Only bring Amil to me every other day for the next two weeks so I may check on the healing progress of his hand." Elizabeth said and Fatima sighed, taking her hand.

"Thank you, Doctor Eliza-bet." Elizabeth loved her new name.

The small family left shortly afterward. After closing the door she turned to the ravaged and bloody mess that was her operating table and couldn't help but laugh. Deciding to rest for a moment she took a seat back at her desk and decided to log her day and her patient in a brown leather notebook.

It took her a while, first writing in English on the left then copying on the opposite page in Arabic. Good practice, she thought. Hopefully one day these records would be useful to someone.

The sun was nearing the horizon when she finished. Pouring herself a glass of wine and spinning up a record, Elizabeth got to work cleaning the operating table. All in all it wasn't too much of a mess but still needed to be dealt with.

After cleaning the table spotless, Elizabeth sat herself up on the operating table and laid down. The empty wine glass balanced on her stomach haphazardly floating between her hands. The sun was fully set, a deep blue darkness coated Cairo in a way she loved so much.

A bated sigh exited her lips and her eyes closed, exhaustion taking over her body. The record ticked off with a soft click and the rooms were filled with silence.

Crickets started singing, quiet at first with bursts of melodic chirping. Perhaps it was her imagination but even the crickets sounded different here. Everything was different here, sometimes in the slightest of ways. Different, but utterly perfect.

Elizabeth thought of Ardeth then. She wondered what he was doing this very moment, if he was thinking of her as often as she thought of him. It brought great comfort to imagine him laying not in his bed, but in the sand, belly full of spiced foods and tea, looking up at the stars and thinking of her.

An awkward creak from the front door suddenly pulled Elizabeth from her reverie. She looked at the door through the darkness, as if her eyes would somehow help her ears hear better.

The crickets were quieted, encouraged by what could only be movement outside. Quietly, Elizabeth rolled off the operating table, glass still in hand.

Her bare feet hardly made a pat on the tile as she tiptoed to the door, still listening. Another creak. As she moved closer, silently, there was more shuffling on the other side.

At the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, a small white envelope started to peek through. Elizabeth's heart beat faster and deeper as she quickly yanked the door open.

While she wasn't completely expecting to find Ardeth what she wasn't expecting was a small, wide-eyed, sharply dressed and startled Egyptian man with a fluffy red fez atop his head.

"Oh—oh!" He bumbled, standing up straight with the letter in his hands.

**_"Can I help you?"_** Elizabeth asked, observing the man who now seemed to have control of his flustered state.

"I apologize madam, for startling you." The man spoke in perfect English, pressing down his tie.

"I feel the apology should go both ways." Elizabeth said, trying not to chuckle at the memory of his wide eyes. The man held the envelope out between the two of them. Elizabeth took it from his hand hesitantly and flipped it over. In Ardeth's delicate handwriting was her name.

She sighed internally, which exited her mouth like a stilted breath. So this was the man who had been delivering their letters.

"Would you like to come in for tea?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oh—I better not—"

"I insist."

The man resolved in a closed lip smile, "Well, if you insist."

Elizabeth gestured to the stairwell adjacent to the door, inviting him in. Up the stairs was her flat which was sporadically furnished with beautiful pieces she'd found in the surrounding markets. Now, she had become quite good as haggling in Arabic when she felt the prices were too high. Though sometimes she just did it for fun.

Lighting a couple candles and sconces the room lit up in a warm yellow glow. She shuffled some papers off the small round table at the balcony and gestured for the man to take a seat.

The kettle boiled and she brought over two tea cups and some sugar. The man happily scooped three heaping spoonfuls of sugar and stirred vigorously, which made Elizabeth smile softly.

"I'm Elizabeth, by the way, but I'm certain you know that already."

"Yes, I am well acquainted with who you are, Dr. Bender-Whitmore. My name is Terence Bey. Doctor Terence Bey."

"Are you a Medjai?" She asked, watching him take a happy first sip of tea. Then he nodded.

"I am the contact in Cairo for the Medjai, while also holding a curator position here at the Museum of Antiquities." He spoke with an air about him that made Elizabeth certain he was very well educated—the 'doctor' referring then only to a doctorate of study, non-medical. And it certainly offered clue to his strange way of dress.

"Well, it's a pleasure, Dr. Bey."

Terence bowed his head, "I must say the pleasure is all mine. You are even lovelier than Ardeth has described. I was hoping for a proper meeting soon, but with Ardeth tied up I suppose this will have to do."

A flush hit her then when she thought of Ardeth talking about her to the other Medjai she'd yet to meet.

"What do you mean 'tied up'?" Elizabeth questioned, glancing at the note still in her hands. She quickly opened the letter and read through it quickly.

_'Elizabeth, _

_I apologize I have not yet found the time to see you. Though there has been word floating around the French Foreign Legion taking up camp in the near East, we must be cautious of their presence and entrance into Hamanaptra all the same. I will send word as soon as I can make my way to you, my love. _

_Please stay safe,_

_Ardeth'_

Elizabeth folded the letter back up and looked back up to Terence. His expression changed from contemplative to worry at the expression on her face.

"Oh dear, is everything alright?"

Elizabeth bit her lip and looked away from the man in the fez to the floor. She felt a hand warmly fall to her own.

"This is just a lot harder than I thought it was going to be." Elizabeth said, trying not to lose her nerve. Terence hummed and rubbed her hand comfortingly. "I knew I would have to sacrifice seeing him but it's been nearly six weeks and I…"

"If I may, Elizabeth…" Terence started and she looked at him, "Ardeth is Chieftain of the Medjai and holds a great responsibility. It must always come first."

"I know. I know." Elizabeth took a hesitant sip of tea. And said, if only to herself, "Just like my clinic."

"If it is any consolation, the bond you and Ardeth share has not lost any light. Though it is in no way sanctified by the court, I know Ardeth can think of little else but you. He doesn't talk much on the subject, but I've known him since he was a boy—I can tell when his mind is occupied by something outside of the Medjai."

Elizabeth felt a bit wrong for finding comfort in his words, "Thank you."

Terence gave her hand a couple of soft pats before returning to his tea cup.

"If it's all the same, he'll be very happy to hear about the boy you saved today."

"How—how do you know about that?" Elizabeth's head tilted to the side in confusion. Was he spying on her?

"How could I not? It's all anyone can talk about after that Fatima Elmahdy won't shut her yap for a single moment concerning the subject." Elizabeth felt a small smile grow, thinking of the young grandmother. Of course she would have reason to shout it to the heavens, she came to Elizabeth's practice thinking she had lost of grandson. Terence continued, "Though I am aware it is no small feat, mind you. How did you manage to reattach a boy's hand?"

Elizabeth sipped her tea, "Like you said, no small feat." She coughed suddenly, quietly at first into her arm. "Excuse me for a moment."

She stood and rushed to the bathroom, concealing her muscle-tightening coughs. In the bathroom she hovered over the sink, feeling her throat and chest on fire. After another few coughs she felt a hot liquid in her throat and spit a thick red glob into the otherwise spotless porcelain surface.

_Catch your breath, Lizzy._ She told herself. And after a few moments she did. A couple sips of water, and she swished the taste of metal from her teeth and tongue.

Terence knocked on the door from the other side, "Are you quite alright, Elizabeth? Are you ill?"

"No, no—I'm fine." She wiped her mouth and opened the door. "I must have caught a bit of the Southern wind in my lungs."

Terence, confused, watched her walk past him back to the table on the balcony. She looked at him.

"Would you like another cup of tea?" Elizabeth asked, already pouring one for him. Terence obliged and returned to his seat.

The two doctors chatted for the rest of the quiet evening. Elizabeth learned a lot about the Medjai, or only what she suspected Terence was willing to divulge. Most things like their traditional, nomad-esque tendencies or their obligations to the sanctity of the ancient order were all things Elizabeth knew, but it was nice to an encyclopedic phrasing to instill the practices in her mind.

That evening Elizabeth fell asleep thinking of Ardeth, as she did most nights, tangled in a heap of linen sheets. Where he was, what he was doing—what he was thinking of—himself.

A soft breeze drift through the open windows, tickling the wind chimes hanging from the canopy of the balcony, operating the most elegant improvised tune._ It was ancient, the wind, _she thought. In her quiet, hazy mind—drifting in and out of unconsciousness—Elizabeth imagined the wind had arms, and imagine the arms wrapping themselves around her from behind tightly, comforting, like Ardeth's arms. And that tickle of the wind softly agitating the ends of her hair on her bare shoulders was not the wind at all, but Ardeth's sleeping breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for the love for my first chapter! Sorry it has been a while since I've updated but I'm slowly transferring myself between stories and passions and it's hard to keep focus on one thing sometimes. Nevertheless I'm here and would love to know your thoughts! I'm looking forward to diving deeper into this story and I'd love to hear your predictions about where the story could be headed! **

**Stay safe out there, wherever you are, and use this time to be thankful for your health and the joy of reading and writing. In this time away from work I'm devoting all I can to reading and exploring new techniques in writing. If you have come across pieces that speak to you share them in the reviews, I'd love to experience more and more in this time I have. **

**For now, enjoy, let me know what you think, and stay kind!**

* * *

Every night since she had moved back to Egypt Elizabeth had dreams she was on fire. And other than the fiery blaze, the only other reoccurring element was the desert. Sometimes she would be crawling, sometimes standing or sitting quietly in the sand while the icy hot flames burned through her flesh.

This dream from which she had just woken, was no different. She heaved the covers from her body, sticky with sweat as they clung to her skin, and crawled to the cold marble floor. Though this helped for only a moment. She clumsily downed two glasses of water and tried to control her breathing to no avail.

The breeze fluttered in through the open balcony doors and she forced herself outside. Cairo was quiet in the late night, early morning haze. The pyramids reflected the moon like a beacon and she was suddenly calm.

Instead of lingering on what the underlying issue was with these dreams, these coughs, these chest pains—Elizabeth resolved to make herself a cup of mint tea and sit out on her balcony until the sun rose.

* * *

Elizabeth had fallen asleep briefly on the balcony. She jumped awake at the sounds of the city coming alive. The sun had just risen between the pyramids from where she sat and she wondered how on earth she got so lucky. To live here, to breathe in this heavy but life-giving air.

Not another moment passed before she heard commotion and coughing down below. Several voices echoed up through the balcony, far too loud to be just mere passer by. Quietly Elizabeth tip-toed to the edge of the balcony and her eyes widened.

Starting in front of her door was a line of about ten people, a few sitting, another coughing, all waiting. Were they waiting for her?

Quickly she ran back inside, changed, and darted downstairs. Breathless she opened the door. The man first in line smiled as he held up an elderly woman.

**_"Please, are you the doctor?" _**

**_"Yes, I am." _**Elizabeth hesitated but gestured for the two to come in. **_"What seems to be the issue?"_**

**_"My aunt, she seems to have fevers every night, chills in the day." _**Elizabeth nodded at his words and checked her pupils, then her fever. No fever, but the woman was nearly rattling out of her bones in a chill.

Elizabeth sighed and got to work. From sunset to nearly sundown the line never seemed to shorten. Exhausted and starving, but patient and focus Elizabeth saw to every patient.

Her current patient, a young man called Faruq, was suffering from eyesight loss. The sun was setting and Elizabeth sighed, using a candle to look into the man's pupils.

**_"Your eyes are quite dry, do you work outside?"_**

**_"Yes." _**

**_"Do you wear any protective eyewear?" _**He shook his head in what she assumed as confusion in what protective eyewear actually was. Elizabeth nodded and stood over to her cabinet. She mixed together a small solution and bottled it. **_"I cannot undo the damage the sun has caused your eyes, Faruq, but I can help them from getting any worse." _**

**_"Thank you, doctor." _**Faruq smiled, grasping the bottle in his hand tightly.

**_"I will look for some protective eyewear for you, but in the meantime keep your eyes low if you must work outside." _**Faruq nodded and bid her a quiet farewell.

Elizabeth sighed, cleaning up her mess quickly. And like she had nearly a hundred times that day, she walked to the door to let in the next patient. Except this time the street was empty. With a haggard sigh of relief Elizabeth let herself fall to the doorframe in tire.

A moment to breathe. Just like she had hoped.

The cool night breeze from the pyramids filtered in through her home and her hair tickled her neck. She could fall asleep right then and there if she wanted to. And oh, had she wanted to.

Suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat jolted her attention out of sleep. Elizabeth's eyes lazily opened and she saw Fatima with little Amil at her side.

"Oh, Fatima—" Elizabeth stood up but Fatima rushed over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You look like shit, Eliza-bet." Fatima said in English and Elizabeth laughed. She sat on a stool and looked at the older woman.

**_"What can I do for you, Fatima? Is Amil okay?"_** Her eyes were becoming heavy but she still trudged on.

**_"Yes, but the boy seems to have burst his stitches." _**Elizabeth looked at Amil who was hiding behind his grandmother's linen skirt.

**_"It's okay, Amil."_** She reassured the boy, **_"Can I take a look? Does it hurt?" _**

Amil hesitantly stepped forward and nodded. Elizabeth took the loose bandage off and saw two stitches had broken. Odd, she thought.

**_"I can fix this but it'll take a little bit of time."_** Elizabeth scooped Amil up and plopped him on the operating table.

Fatima was silent as Elizabeth got her supplies ready. Elizabeth looked back at the older woman who was looking at her with pensive suspicion.

**_"What is it?" _**

**_"Have you eaten at all today, Eliza-bet?"_**

Elizabeth avoided eye contact with Fatima and went back to organizing her tools.

"Mmhmm." Fatima hummed, knowingly.**_ "If this will take as long as you say I will be right back. Okay, Amil?" _**

Amil nodded. Elizabeth watched Fatima leave with knitted brows.

She turned back to Amil, **_"So, what kind of mischief led to this, hmm?" _**

Amil looked at her with a shy shrug, **_"I tried to go fishing with one hand but…" _**

**_"That didn't really work out, did it?"_** Elizabeth chuckled, stringing up her needle.

Amil giggled, **_"No, I caught a fish and couldn't reel it in." _**

Elizabeth gave him a small shot of morphine at his wrist and steadied her hands.

**_"It'll be a pinch, okay? Just like the first time." _**She waited until Amil nodded to make the first stitch. But before she could Fatima strolled back in, slamming the door open and closed behind her.

"Eliza-bet, you have kitchen yes?" Fatima asked, and Elizabeth turned. In her arms was a plucked chicken, vegetables, and a terra-cotta pot. She blinked.

"Um, yes, just upstairs." Fatima nodded and trudged up the stairs. Elizabeth blinked and turned back to Amil. She got straight to work. Amil flinched every now and then before the shot started to kick in, then he eased into comfort.

It was easy enough—restitching—but Elizabeth was waning in strength. It took her nearly twice as long to stitch the boy up.

Fatima came downstairs then with a steaming pot of chicken and vegetables just as she wrapped Amil's wrist back up. The scent of the rich spices alone made Elizabeth start to salivate.

**_"Come, eat." _**Fatima ordered and sat the pot on her desk, beckoning her. Elizabeth took a bite and felt a jolt of life come back to her. Amil and Fatima started to eat as well. It was quiet but nice, enjoying a meal with this small family.

**_"Thank you, Fatima."_**

**_"You need to feed yourself, Doctor Eliza-bet, even when you are saving lives of others." _**Fatima said and Elizabeth could only nod. She knew this was true, and always tried to stay on top of her own health—but no matter how much she tried, the health of others always came first.

**_"Grandma can I go home?"_** Amil asked and Fatima looked at Elizabeth, who nodded and told him to come back in two days so she could check on his stitches. Amil ran home and left the two women alone.

The candles in the clinic were growing dim and the pot was nearly empty of food. Elizabeth felt like she could close her eyes and fall asleep in a second.

**_"Thank you, Fatima, truly." _**

**_"It is no bother."_** Fatima said, eying her. **_"Eliza-bet may I ask you something? And you do not have answer if you do not want."_**

**_"Of course." _**

**_"Do you have someone to care for you?" _**

Elizabeth let out a breath and looked down at the pot. She popped another sweet potato into her mouth and shook her head.

**_"Have you no one?" _**Fatima urged on.

**_"I have someone but he's…he's not present."_**

**_"And where is he?" _**

**_"He's has a very important job that keeps him out of the city."_** Elizabeth said in as little give away as possible. Fatima nodded in understanding.

**_"Everyone needs someone, Doctor Eliza-bet—even if it's someone to take a bit of pressure off. You have a very important job too." _**

Elizabeth nodded, setting her fork down. She considered the words with great understanding and made a quick, but important decision.

**_"Fatima, do you have a job?" _**

The older woman shook her head and laughed a little. **_"Not many women in Cairo have jobs, my dear, even young ones. You are a fortunate anomaly." _**

**_"How would you like a job?" _**

Fatima blinked at Elizabeth, looking lost for a moment.

**_"What—what kind of job?" _**

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and sighed, **_"If today was any indication that I need help—I know it will not be easier. I could use an assistant; someone to make appointments, take down symptoms, help with the occasional operation if you can stomach it. And I will pay you of course." _**

Fatima grew an incredible smile, **_"I am good with money, I can handle the payments from patients."_** Elizabeth started to shake her head, but was interrupted, **_"I know you did not ask payment of any of your patients today, the word travels fast here my dear. I will handle that so you do not have to worry. You must be paid for your talents, otherwise how will you survive?"_**

Elizabeth let out another sigh of relief. **_"Thank you. Can you start tomorrow?" _**

Fatima laughed, picking up the empty pot. **_"I can start right now!" _**

* * *

Elizabeth and Fatima developed a routine that week. A routine which divided the work that Elizabeth hated doing, giving her more time to devote to each patient. It was a rocky system but it worked.

The day would start with the sunrise and end with the sunset, with Sunday's off save for dire emergencies. Fatima would sometimes stay for dinner, but would more often than not leave Elizabeth to her own company in the evenings. And in the evenings Elizabeth would make herself dinner and think of nothing else but Ardeth and how it had been forty-five days since she last saw him.

Her stomached ached with the thought of Ardeth being out there with all the dangers she couldn't even imagine, and missing him more and more every moment because of it. She would sit on her balcony in the cool evenings and look back into her bedroom with yearning.

All she wanted was to touch him, and to hold him. She didn't even need to kiss him. Just to feel, to know he is real and alive and well.

Elizabeth would finish her tea and make herself another before she would crawl into her sheets. This night was a particularly hard one because she tried as hard as she could to distract herself. She fell asleep attempting to read her father's newest book that had just been mailed to her.

It was a restless sleep, with dreams of burning and the desert. But they would be interrupted by a loud clang downstairs. Elizabeth jumped up and listened.

More clanging.

Quickly, silently, Elizabeth made her way downstairs. The sound was coming from the back door. As she stepped closer she picked up a discarded cricket bat that Amil and Sachi left behind the other day.

It was nearly pitch dark save for the bright moon shining in through the windows. Another clang and a horse whiny. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and the door opened. She raised the bat ready to fight.

A tall, dark figure was in the doorway, an unmistakable silhouette.

"Oh Ardeth—" She dropped the bat and Ardeth ran to her, "For fucks sake, use the front door next time." She laughed into his chest and Ardeth picked her up and spun her around.

"I'm sorry I have been away for so long."

"Shh." Elizabeth's fingers fell to his lips and her forehead fell to his. "I don't care right now."

"I missed you." Ardeth breathed out, running a hand through her hair. He chuckled softly, "I've been gone so long your hair is nearly twice as long."

"Yours too." She joked and touched the tattoos on his face. "How long do I have you for?"

"Tonight," he kissed her softly, "and tomorrow." And again.

Elizabeth nearly started crying between their kisses, she clutched his robes and willed her grip the strength to never let go.

"Then we must make the most of this time."


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth jolted awake, a fire cascaded from her lungs down to her toes and she breathed like she'd just surfaced from a body of water. Her body was soaked in sweat and her heartbeat was deafening.

"Elizabeth?" She barely heard Ardeth next to her as she struggled to regain control of her breath.

Fire. It was always fire and sand in the dreams. This time she wasn't covered in it, but circled. Trapped. The sand beneath her feet burned to the bone. She didn't know why she was there, only that she couldn't leave.

"Elizabeth!" Arms wrapped around her shoulders and Elizabeth quickly shook herself of her daze. "Elizabeth, are you alright? What happened?"

She breathed out and her head fell to Ardeth's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. It was…just a bad dream." Ardeth soothed her by holding her tighter and dragging his fingers through her hair. He was unbothered by the sweat.

"It is alright now, I am here." He whispered.

"I know." Elizabeth said into his neck. She sunk into his arms and felt calm.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Ardeth it was just a nightmare, they don't mean anything."

"Oh I don't think so. Dreams can sometimes be our minds telling us something we either do not know for ourselves, or refuse to accept. What happened?"

Elizabeth sighed but conceded, it was far too early to do little else.

"I've had the same dream since I moved here, though it varies. I am usually in the desert, I'm always wearing white linen with fire around me. Sometimes it burns me, sometimes it just surrounds me."

"Hmm…" Ardeth hummed in thought.

"Hmm," Elizabeth repeated, "What do you think it means, Ardeth?"

"Fire can mean many things."

"Like?"

"Fire is cleansing—reinventing. A symbol of the sun, heat." He paused, gathering words that Elizabeth felt were hard for him to articulate. "Fire also means violence, war, death."

Elizabeth huffed out a breath and tried to close her eyes, "Like I said, dreams don't mean anything."

Ardeth looked into her eyes in a peculiar way then, like he was trying to work something out. He watched her for several moments.

"Do you know of the Goddess Sekhmet?"

"The name sounds familiar."

"She was a warrior goddess who breathed fire." Elizabeth's eyebrows raised. She loved to indulge in these concepts of Egyptian history and stories, but some were just far too absurd to be even scientifically proven. Ardeth continued, "She was also the goddess of healing."

"Hmm…" Elizabeth hummed again. "So what is it that you are trying to say? That I'm a goddess?" She laughed and fell back onto the pillow.

"It is quite possible. There are tales of reincarnation of even the most unimportant deities of Egyptian history."

"Why can't I just be myself?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Elizabeth stopped to sigh, the sunrise began to shoot hazy sparks of light through the room. "I've worked so hard to be who I am, to be where I am…why can't that be intrinsically mine?"

"It is yours, Elizabeth." Ardeth laid back on his side and brushed her hair from her face. "You are a goddess to me either way."

Elizabeth felt a blush trickle across her cheeks and her ears warmed. Mildly shy still, around him, words like that spoken from his mouth sent her to a place of true warmth. Quickly she cleared her throat.

"How has your wound healed?" She asked, resting her hand over his heart.

"The stitches were itchy." Ardeth said and she laughed.

"No, I mean this one." Elizabeth moved her hand to his heart and Ardeth looked at her with pure certainty. Back in the desert, months ago, Ardeth had all but confessed to her what she meant to him just days before she left.

"It is getting better—with each day I get to see you." Ardeth said softly, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Good," Elizabeth said and situated herself into his arms. Pure comfort, she could fall asleep immediately in that moment her eyes closed.

They laid together until the heat of the morning rose them from the comfort of bedsheets and blankets. Elizabeth made a mid-morning breakfast which they enjoyed together on the balcony joined by a light breeze from the South.

Elizabeth would watch Ardeth look out into the landscape with admiration in his eyes. He loved this place just as much as she did. Elizabeth found herself looking at Ardeth the way he gazed out into the desert. When he moved his head and gaze to her, she shifted her eyes down to her tea and pastry.

Ardeth smiled at her softly, and looked at her with similar admiration. He watched her separate a small bit from the pastry and dip it into her tea. A calm expression crossed her brow with a content sigh.

"How has the clinic been?" Ardeth asked.

"Dr. Bey has not told you?" Elizabeth asked in turn, giving him a look of slight derision.

"He has only told me of the boy you saved, and that you seemed to be getting busier."

Elizabeth nodded, "Yes, so much so I had to hire some help."

There was a sudden crash downstairs, the front door opening and closing.

"Doctor Eliza-bet!" They heard from the stairwell.

"Speaking of her…" Elizabeth chuckled as Fatima appeared at the top of the stairs. Elizabeth stood, wiping her hands on her skirt. "Yes, Fatima, what is it?"

Her assistant, hair set in a loose today unlike work days when she would wear it up, looked from her to Ardeth on the balcony and immediately grew still. Her posture spoke to Elizabeth suddenly like a deer who has been spotted by a lion.

"Fatima are you alright?" Elizabeth took another step toward her, and rested a hand on her shoulder. This seemed to pull her from her sudden reverie. She looked at Elizabeth with wide eyes.

"This is the one, hmm?"

"Yes, this is Ardeth." As Elizabeth spoke he stood and walking over to the two women. "Ardeth, this is Fatima. The woman I've hired to help me in the clinic."

Ardeth bowed his head, **_"A pleasure, Fatima." _**

Fatima narrowed her eyes and gave him the slightest nod—it was so minuscule Elizabeth second-guessed that it had even happened. There was a considerable pause before she shifted her attention back to Elizabeth.

"There is word of an elderly woman down by the river who has fallen in her home." Elizabeth nodded quickly and started for the stairs when she turned to Ardeth. She felt an immediate conflict that Ardeth sensed, perhaps even predicted it. As she turned back to him Ardeth, with a gentle eye of admiration, nodded her along. Elizabeth gave him a soft nod before trudging down the stairs with Fatima.

…

Elizabeth returned to her clinic with muted movements. Her keys slipped through the locked and twisted, with what little strength she still possessed and pushed the door open. Inside was silent.

"Ardeth?" She called out, and was met with continued silence. After a sigh she set her medical case down on the tile. Elizabeth stepped passed her desk but paused as a glimpse of color caught her eye.

Upon the desk was a brass vase, shaped something like a tulip, and held within it a bundle of greenery and speckled bit of bright red that could only be poppies.

Poppies? In Egypt?

Elizabeth picked one of the stems out and felt the thin petal between her thumb and forefinger.

"You've returned." Elizabeth heard from the back door. Ardeth leaned against the doorframe watching her.

"How did you know that poppies were my favorite flower?"

"I did not know. I merely spotted them in the market and they…reminded me of you." Ardeth said while softly gazing at her. Flushed and blushing deeper than the poppy red, Elizabeth looked away from the charming smile of the man with whom she loved. One of the petals fell off in her palm. Briefly she wondered what kind of flower, if any, reminded her of Ardeth.

"I have something else for you." Ardeth interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh?"

Ardeth nodded and gestured to the back. Holding the poppy still in her hand she followed him out to her back patio and sand covered courtyard. Her eyes landed upon two horses, one obviously Ardeth's trusty black stead and beside him stood a white horse with black splotches, as though it had taken a tumble in some mud.

"What…is this?"

"She's yours." Ardeth said, patting the horse's mane with care.

"Mine?" Elizabeth could hardly wrap her head around it immediately. She laughed, "But Ardeth I don't even know how to ride a horse."

"I will teach you, if you allow it. But she is yours now, trained well but very young—bred from Alexandria."

Elizabeth suddenly felt very touched by this gift, as she stepped toward the horse—her horse. The mare was receptive to her hand, as though anticipating Elizabeth's nervousness.

The horse breathed out and her eyes closed. Elizabeth ran her hand through the speckled mane, and when she opened her eyes again Elizabeth held her gaze for several moments. It was an immediate love.

"Ardeth this is…this is too much, I pay you for her—"

Ardeth laughed, "It is a gift, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth sighed, "Thank you. I am sorry if I sound ungrateful—I just was not expecting this. Thank you."

Ardeth raised a hand and brushed his thumb across her jaw. Immediately Elizabeth felt lost in his dark eyes, the humid heat from his body.

"There is one other thing that I wish to ask you," he began quietly, his voice deep and serious. He took up both her hands in his and breathed out. "Elizabeth, I—"

_"__Lizzy!"_ A voice boomed from inside the clinic and the sound of a door slamming shut. _"Lizzy Bender-Whitmore, you there? This better be the right place, assuming you are the "white doctor" everyone has pointed me toward!" _

Elizabeth turned toward Ardeth with wide eyes.

"My father! Oh my goodness I didn't know, or I forgot—I'm so sorry."

"Elizabeth it is alright, I would nothing more than to meet your father."

"Okay, quickly now—everything you need to know about my father; he is American, he's a writer, he's abrasive, but loving, and will most likely give you a nickname you hate. I apologize in advance." Ardeth nodded to her assuringly.

_"__Elizabeth, goddamnit—you here?"_

Elizabeth flung the back door open and spotted her father. He was carry a bag across this shoulder and a suitcase at his side, even across the room she could smell the musty scented clothes from a week at sea.

"Dad!" Elizabeth smiled and ran toward him.

"There she is!" Earnest Whitmore dropped his bag and held his arms out for the incoming bear hug from his daughter. "Oh I missed you so much." He whispered in her ear, squeezing her tight.

"I missed you too. I didn't know you were coming so soon, I would've had a room ready."

"Lizzy I wrote you nearly three letters." Earnest narrowed his eyes, to which Elizabeth mirrored, "All three of which you responded to, don't you remember?" He laughed and slapped her on the back, "Already hard at work and becoming forgetful like your old man, I get it."

Elizabeth felt a knot in her stomach grow, as she did not remember the letters nor responding to them. But if her father said she did, then she did. It was hard to be disappointed now by a visit from her father.

"Place looks nice, darling. A little small but—oh, hello." Elizabeth turned at her father's pause and saw Ardeth walking in. With a huge intake of breath Elizabeth stepped toward Ardeth.

"Dad, this is—"

"You must be Ardeth." Ernest raised his hand and shook Ardeth's with much more vigor than the Medjai was anticipating. "Great handshake, Ardie, good strong handshake—sign of a strong man."

"Thank you sir, it's a pleasure."

"Oh, your English is perfect—"

"Dad!" Elizabeth scolded him.

"What? It is. Now, Ardie—" Ernest slapped his big arm around Ardeth's shoulders, "Do you know how to box?"

"No, I do not."

"Would you like to learn?"

Elizabeth's head fell into her hands, but for the life of her could not help but break out into a fit of giggles.

* * *

**As always, please let me know what you think in reviews. I truly love to hear any and all feedback!**


	4. Chapter 4

That evening was filled with a warmth that only Elizabeth's father could generate. She could tell that Ardeth's comfort at first was very stiff around him—reasonably so; the two of them had only barely started this relationship and he was already meeting her father. But towards the end of the evening, after a delightful meal of lamb and a delightful green soup Ardeth called mulukhiyah, he seemed more comfortable and jovial even.

"I will miss you, habibata." Ardeth said, cupping Elizabeth's face in a way that could settle anyone's worries. His horse was saddled up to take Ardeth away from Elizabeth for who knows how long.

"And I will miss you, my qalbi." Ardeth smiled and kissed her forehead softly, lingering. He looked hesitant to move, to leave her. Elizabeth's hands clutched his robes like vices and felt like she was losing him all over again. Would it feel like this every time?

"I must go, Elizabeth." He took her hands from his chest and held them in his.

"I know, I'm just trying to keep you a little bit longer." She whispered, almost embarrassed. "There was something earlier, something you had wanted to say before my father showed up, what was it?"

Ardeth gave her a small smirk and a chuckle, before he kissed her softly.

"It can wait."

"Or you could tell me now." Elizabeth tried to hide her eagerness but her wide eyes of excitement gave her away. Ardeth chuckled as he mounted his horse.

"Patience, habibata."

"I don't have much of it." Elizabeth smiled.

Ardeth offered her another chuckle, "I am aware of this trait of yours. We will practice patience together."

Elizabeth reached her hand up and held his, squeezing. The overcast sunset was a blessing, as she knew there were tears in her eyes that she wished for Ardeth not to see.

"When will you be back?" She asked, though she knew the answer.

"As soon as I am able." And that would have to do, for now.

Elizabeth watched as he left her, once again, until all she could see was a faint dot that rounded the corner down the road. With a heavy sigh she walked back inside where she met her father who was reading through one of her journals.

"Arabic is such a strange language, it's not like French or Italian—it has its own symbols and letters and—" He looked up at Elizabeth who stood still in the middle of the room, heavy tears ballooning from her eyes. "Oh darling."

Ernest jumped up and Elizabeth fell into his arms. He held her tight, despite the heat, and rubbed her back in soothing circles like he used to when she was young.

"He seems like a good man, your Ardeth." He kissed the top of her head, "And I'm not going to pretend to understand exactly what it is he does or why he has to leave you like this. It must be difficult."

Elizabeth nodded into his shirt and rubbed her cheeks.

"It's so hard, papa."

Ernest pulled her back gently and looked into her eyes, "It is hard, I know. But this pain, this longing—is proof of your love for each other."

"That's all very poetic, papa, but this is my life. I—I left England—I left stability and you and Charlie to be here for him. What if I made a mistake?" Elizabeth choked out her words.

"What if you did?" Ernest questioned back. "Hmm? You're telling me the entire reason you came back here and started a clinic in Cairo was because of some dark and mysterious desert dweller? When I know full well from that journal of yours there'd be damn near a hundred new graves dug outside of town if not for you. Come on, Lizzy, I didn't raise you to be a wife—"

"I know, I know."

"I raised you to be independent." That last word from her father reverberated inside her chest like a cavernous echo.

"You're right." Elizabeth nodded, "It's just…"

"It's hard. But you're stronger." He poked her nose which garnered a chuckled, then poked just over her heart, "And so is this. Ardie's the luckiest guy this side of the Atlantic to have you, I hope he knows that."

"I think he does."

"Good, if he doesn't I'll let him know." Elizabeth laughed. Ernest clapped his hands together, "Now, time to turn this into a real party." He dug into his suitcase and produced a pair of boots. Confused Elizabeth continued to watch as he plucked out a bottle of bourbon and a bottle of wine from inside.

"Oh god," Elizabeth laughed.

Ernest smiled, holding up the bottles. "Now, I'm dying to see those damn pyramids you keep talking about."

* * *

The next morning Elizabeth woke up stiffer than the drinks she'd had the previous night. Normally she was responsible and did not indulge on a night before she had to work, but in celebration of her father's visit and her mixed feelings of seeing Ardeth for the first time in months, she needed it.

"Eliza-bet!" She heard Fatima yell from downstairs. Elizabeth groaned and looked at the clock. Five thirty in morning.

"Never again." She mumbled to herself. As quickly as possible Elizabeth dressed. She peeked into her father's room and found him passed out still in his suit, laying diagonally across the bed. She wrote a note to help himself to food in the kitchen and that she'll see him for dinner after the clinic closes.

At the top of the stairs Elizabeth paused. For a moment she thought she might throw up, but merely got lightheaded. She leaned against the wall and breathed out. Gripping the handrail she calmed her breathing and the spell seemed to dissipate within a minute.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs Fatima tossed her a pastry.

"Breakfast, and tea is almost done. You have a line out the door this morning."

Elizabeth sighed, biting into the flakey pastry that tasted like sugar and cardamom even though she barely had an appetite.

"Mondays will be the death of me yet…" She mumbled to herself and let the first patient in.

…

"All I'm saying is your brother is a twerp that thinks he can handle his own but last month's layoffs are a sore reminder that he supported a war not for the people but for our quote-unquote _Great_ Britain." Ernest preached passionately with a glass of wine in his hand.

"And that's why you punched him? Because he's unemployed?" Elizabeth laughed into her beer when her father held his hands up in defense.

"Of course I will always take you or your brother in times of trouble but if you've got some notion you're owed my kindness—think again. You are both adults thus I treat you like an adult." Ernest sighed and looked mildly guilty. "That being said, I do feel bad for the punch."

Elizabeth laughed again and leaned back in her chair. The two had decided to treat themselves to a nice dinner with a patio that overlooked Giza to the West and the Nile to the North. The air was warm but still, and the clouds moved quickly across the sky.

"If Charlie is unemployed why didn't he join you to Cairo?" Elizabeth asked, to which her father sighed.

"He's seeing this girl, Camilla. Won't shut up about her for a second, nor leave her side. When I mentioned they both accompany me I suddenly became the world's foremost comedian. They meant nothing by it, Charlie's a homebody—always has been."

"I'm aware." Elizabeth sipped on her beer and looked out to the pyramids and said with the wafty cadence of a gust of wind, "He's missing out."

"I agree." Ernest said, turning himself to look at the giant edifices of Giza. He hummed and plucked out a pencil from his jacket and started writing furiously on a napkin. Elizabeth watched her father with calm delight. A kindred adoration for this desert was bound to be shared between them, the difference between the two merely being age.

"I think I'm going to die here." Elizabeth said, mostly to herself. It was a sudden realization and one that was packed with the idea that even in death she could not see herself leave this place.

"Hopefully not anytime soon."

"Hopefully." Elizabeth said before she suddenly coughed into her napkin, her lungs felt like sand piling up within them. Her father seemed to give her no mind, still lost in his gaze toward the desert. When she spotted the blood on the napkin she quickly folded it and hid it away in her jacket. "Are you ready to head back, dad?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, sure."

Elizabeth paid for their meal and they started their walk back to her home.

* * *

That evening Elizabeth wrote in her journal while her father rested upstairs.

_"__October 5th _

_1919_

_I've experienced several episodes of respiratory fits, some resulting in coughing up blood and otherwise general unease in the chest and lungs._

_One episode of lightheadedness comes to memory as well, though this could be attributed to diet and over working. _

_Outside of these symptoms I feel fine but will continue to monitor."_

* * *

Elizabeth led her father along the bank of the Nile, carrying his newly acquired suitcase full of items and books he'd gathered in Cairo in the short week he'd been with her.

At the base of the boat's boarding dock Ernest hugged his daughter tightly and kissed her forehead.

"Tell Charlie I say hi, and take care of yourself, papa."

"I will. You take care of yourself as well—don't rely too much on Fatima, you need to rely on yourself, understand? Allow yourself time to breathe."

"Yes, yes I know." Elizabeth hugged him again and sighed as he stepped up to the dock.

"Au revoir, doctor!" He yelled, waving his hat, causing several people to look back at her. Embarrassed she merely smiled and waved back at him.

A quick sadness took over Elizabeth's smile as her father disappeared onto the boat. With a confident turn Elizabeth slowly made her way back home, taking her time to enjoy the bustling Sunday afternoon.

* * *

Ernest Whitmore turned from his daughter with feigned happiness, pushing back what tears only his daughter could encourage. He picked up his suitcases and made his way inward toward his cabin.

Before he could take another step, a voice startled him from behind.

"Are you Earnest Whitmore?"

He turned around and saw a short Egyptian man with a bright red fez atop his head.

"Depends on who's askin.'" The man gave him a soft chuckle before stepping forward.

"By that response I am now certain that it is you whom I am required to meet."

Ernest raised an eyebrow, caution struck through his body.

"Required to meet?"

"I assure you I in no way offer a threatening aside, I have been sent by a mutual acquaintance of ours." The man paused, waiting for a response from Ernest but only got a determined silence. "Ardeth Bay, sir."

"Oh," Ernest laughed and dropped his cases with a thump. He clapped a hand into the man's and shook it vigorously, "Well why didn't you say so?"

* * *

Elizabeth arrived back to her home shortly, but paused at the front door noticing that it was left slightly ajar. She pushed it open softly.

"Fatima? Did you leave the door open?" She called but no answer. Her eyes narrowed at a sound from one of the back rooms. Planted by the front entrance she searched for some type of weapon, lest her intruder be thieves.

Then soft footsteps around the door way of the back and the person revealed was clad all in black from head to toe, sword at his his side, and a smile on his face that juxtaposed his menacing demeanor.

"Abdal! What is it with you Medjai scaring the living daylights out of me?" Elizabeth laughed as she pulled her friend in for a warm hug.

"Oh, so it is you who leave your front door open and I'm the one in trouble?"

* * *

_**Bit of a short one for you all but I hope you enjoy it all the same! I'm working on directing this story toward a larger plot but otherwise wandering a bit on the way. Please let me know what you think!**_


	5. Chapter 5

Elizabeth awoke with a pained gasp of breath, her body jolted up from its sleeping position. The floor beneath her shook. When she realized she wasn't on the floor at all, but her operating table, she began to panic. Covered in sweat and breathing heavily Elizabeth looked around the room when she saw Abdal at her desk, feet resting upon the surface, munching on boiled oats. She could smell the rich cinnamon as though it was just beneath her nose. A steady peace ran through her.

"Abdal, what happened?" She asked.

"Oh, you're awake—you passed out." Abdal said between bites.

"And you just put me up on my operating table?"

"What was I supposed to do? Leave you on the ground?" He chuckled. Elizabeth was flustered but knew he was right.

"What happened?"

"I already told you—did you hit your head?"

"No, I mean, what led to it? The last thing I remember was finding you here."

"We talked for a bit when you suddenly started coughing, your nose started to bleed, and then just like that—" He tapped the spoon against the bowl offering a metallic clink, "you fell to the ground."

Elizabeth rubbed the sweat from her eyes and felt the crusted blood around her nose. The dried blood came off in her hands in solid flecks that reminded her of sand. Briefly she felt transported into a dream.

The last dream Elizabeth had, more like a nightmare when she thought back to it, was an endless journey of digging and digging herself out of sand but never seemed to reach the surface. All darkness and sand. Now she wondered whether she was digging herself out in the right direction.

"—so I just picked you up and set you on that table. It's only been about thirty minutes."

"And you found it upon yourself to raid my pantry?"

"Well I did not know how long I was going to have to watch you, now did I?" Elizabeth laughed at his candor and pushed herself off the table. She soaked a rag from the pitcher in the corner and wiped her face clean. "Do you know why you do these things?"

"The fainting you mean? No, I don't. Not yet at least." When she was completely clean she joined Abdal and sat up on her desk. "So to what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Ah, yes. I suspected you might want to look at this." Abdal stood and lifted his tunic, baring his stomach toward her. Upon his right side, where upon she knew he had suffered a severe gun injury, looked nearly unscathed. "Nice work, doctor, eh?"

Elizabeth knelt down and flipped the lamp on in one swift movement.

"What on earth…" She touched the scar tissue, or what she suspected to be scar tissue, and felt the smooth surface of his skin. It looked more like a trick of the light than anything. "This makes no sense. There's no way I got those stitches that precise."

Elizabeth remembered stitching Abdal, cleaning his wound that sullen and blistery day last year in the desert. It was the first day she met Ardeth. Her hands shook from dehydration and tire after several days of wandering in the desert with her nurse Archie. It just didn't make any sense.

Then again nothing had been making sense lately.

"I thought it strange myself, but I figured I might come show you either way. I was assigned to come here anyway." Abdal continued, but then paused immediately after his last statement.

"Come here meaning Cairo?" Elizabeth questioned, rolling his tunic back down.

Abdal shrugged, "More or less."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, unbelieving of his true intentions.

"Tell me the truth." She said.

"I was sent to you." Abdal gave up quickly. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Ardeth is worried."

"He shouldn't be." Elizabeth turned, looking for something to busy her hands and her mind but fell short.

"Well he is, if you had asked me this morning I would say he worries too much. But after today—"

"You cannot tell him what happened." Elizabeth said quickly, whipping around.

"And why not?"

"Because he does not need to worry about me like that. I can take care of myself."

"Pardon me for saying so Doctor Elizabeth, but I would beg to differ."

"Would you like another scar where the old one should be?" Elizabeth questioned, as threateningly as her smile would let her. Abdal raised his hands.

"I will not tell him if you do not wish it."

"Thank you." Elizabeth stood and looked out of the window. "You said Ardeth sent you to me?"

"Yes, I did."

"What did he say, exactly?" Elizabeth questioned, trying not to sound too eager.

Abdal sighed and sat back down, plopping his feet back up on her desk.

"Well in it all, our Chieftain's main reason for sending me to city was to tell you that he may need your help. Though he did not say it in these words, you see?" Elizabeth struggled to follow Abdal's wishy-washy English and accent that seemed to get worse when he only told fragments of the truth. "The French Foreign Legion stands a threat to Hamunaptra, Ardeth is concerned we may have to get involved if they move any further North from Libya. It could be years before anything happens, though."

"What have I got to do with any of that?"

"Well, if we get involved there will be a battle."

"I see." Elizabeth stared at her feet in contemplation. "Why could he not come to tell me that himself? I mean no disrespect, it is lovely to see you Abdal it's just—"

"May I be honest, Doctor Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth looked into the eyes of the man she had saved not so long ago, the eyes—one dark brown, one with specks of ember—seemed open and true. She nodded for him to continue.

"Of course."

"Our Chieftain, I believe, is in over his head with you. You are a distraction, a beautiful one, but a distraction nonetheless. The Medjai is Ardeth's calling, and he has faltered in his responsibilities since he has met you."

"What are you saying?"

Abdal sighed and considered his next statement before continuing, "I do not know what I am saying, however it needed to be said. The elders are worried that Ardeth's focus has shifted."

"If it means anything at all, I feel as though he is more focused on you than me. As it should be," Elizabeth quickly added, if only to remind herself. "Which is why you cannot tell him about what happened today. If he is distracted already, you cannot know how this news may effect him."

"Indeed."

"Nonetheless I will find a way to be present if a battle does ensue, if Ardeth wishes it."

"I will share the message along." Abdal clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up quickly. Elizabeth was still dazed by the conversation and recent events involving her face and the tile floor. "I must be going, lots of food to eat, lots of pretty girls to admire from afar."

Elizabeth let out a snort sort of laugh and walked him to the door.

"Well, if you need somewhere to sleep for the night, you're always welcome."

Abdal bowed to her as he exited the door and bid her farewell.

Once the door was closed Elizabeth immediately ran to her book collection upstairs and pulled out anything involving symptoms of nosebleeds, cough, and fainting. As one could imagine, there was a considerable amount and probably more that Elizabeth did not have in her published works.

For hours Elizabeth scoured her books and came up with nothing. Asthma, certainly not. Dust exposure, well sure but why now? A blood clot was a possible diagnosis, but not an obstinate option. Sudden onset anemia?

Elizabeth laid on the cold tile of the floor and sighed. Figuring it typical she contracted something unwritten, unexplored.

Then she gasped and croaked aloud, "Tuberculosis!"

* * *

**_"_****_What do you mean it's not tuberculosis?"_** Elizabeth questioned Doctor Hadad, a physician who specialized in diseases she'd discovered the morning after her self-diagnosis. He was an older man—a short man, a bit round about the middle, with circular glasses rounder than the sun.

**_"_****_I do not know what to tell you Doctor Bender, you say you have these symptoms but none of the patients you have treated have contracted anything?"_**

**_"_****_That's true but if it's not tuberculosis, what can it be?" _**

Doctor Hadad sighed and could only offer her a shrug.**_ "Best keep an eye on your fluids and get lots of fresh air." _**

Elizabeth sighed, **_ "Right. Thank you for your help, Doctor." _**

* * *

Evenings would hit Elizabeth harder than she would like to admit lately. She was endlessly exhausted both mentally and physically, fatigue would hit her like a gust of wind from a tunnel at the onset of dusk. Yet she treasured the time because it was when she was truly the only time she got to be alone.

Elizabeth's perpetual train of thought that bounced from her mystery sickness that was only getting worse; to Ardeth, with whom she hadn't seen in nearly two weeks, and to each of her patients, a list that grew longer with each day.

This particular evening Elizabeth settled herself in her back courtyard and fed the horse that Ardeth had gifted her. She was a calm horse, more patient than her owner, and still gave no particular interest in any of the names Elizabeth had suggested.

"Lily? Fergus? Mauve?" She questioned, to which the horse stood still and calm. Elizabeth sighed and continued to brush her mane. "I will find out your name as soon as you let me, I suppose."

When Elizabeth was finished tending to her horse with no name, she would read to her. Mostly medical journals she picked up from the library, if only to have a listening ear—it helped her think better reading things aloud. However today she brought out her father's old copy of Pride and Prejudice. A bit of a break, as it were.

Elizabeth started at the beginning and read for several minutes before the horse huffed out a heavy breath and tapped it hoof on the ground.

"What is it?" She questioned, "You keep interrupting me and I'll have to start back at the beginning." Elizabeth joked and continued on, _"Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy—"_

The horse huffed again and Elizabeth gasped. No, the horse could not have been telling her something—could it have?

"Would you like to be called Darcy?" The horse shook her mane, "You know we're hardly that far in and Darcy is purely detestable at this point in the story—but if you insist." Elizabeth yawned and closed her book. She gave her horse, now Darcy, a loving pat along her back and rested her head against her.

Softly Elizabeth heard Darcy's heart beat. Thump-thump, tha-dump, tha-dump-dump.

"Goodnight, Darcy."

Elizabeth tiptoed up the stairs and fell into bed. The moon shined into the room and reflected its blue glow from every smooth surface it could. Then, once nestled into the covers, Elizabeth rested her fingers on her pulse and listened to her own heartbeat until she fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning Elizabeth sipped her tea and thought on the dream she'd had the night before. It was like a memory, felt like one at least—except she didn't remember experiencing any of it.

She was on the battle field in Ghana, something she never did as a field doctor. But still she was, leaning against a make-shift barricade with a rifle in her hands—

_"You ready for this Bender?"_

_Elizabeth turned to the voice beside her, Daniel Elliot; her first love. She breathed out, and smiled. Even in this dream everything felt real, seemed real, smelled real. Lemons and honey and sweat was what Daniel smelled like—always. And now, looking at him Elizabeth felt teary-eyed and filled with dark sorrow. He was so young; soft cheeks, messy brown hair cut high and tight, bright blue eyes, and a smile that always made her feel like it was all going to be okay. Daniel was two years younger than Elizabeth. _

_"I'm ready." Elizabeth said. Daniel nodded and turned to their sergeant. A blast fired off in the distance. _

_"Steady!" The sergeant yelled, "Steady, men!" _

_"All you gotta do is run, okay?" Daniel gripped her arm. "Run and I'll cover you."_

_"What about you?"_

_"I'll be okay, if you're okay, okay?" He smirked at her and tapped her nose, a tooth pick hung from his mouth like a cigarette. It was all so real. _

_Elizabeth straightened, her body and mind prepping for the sprint across enemy lines. _

_"Get ready! Go! Go! Go!" _

_Elizabeth and Daniel hopped up and ran as quickly as possible. Bullet wizzed past Elizabeth from both directions, missing her by inches or smaller. _

_She ran as hard as her legs would let her but her feet struggled in the sand. With each step further, her foot would fall deeper into the sand. Further and further, deeper and deeper until she was knee deep in the Earth. _

_Around her the soldiers battled and Daniel ran up to her, hands reaching out to grab her. She tried to move to him but only fell deeper until she was completely sheathed in sand. Darkness flooded her senses and the sounds of gunshots and screams faded. _

_Elizabeth tried to dig herself out but could reach no salvation. She could hardly move, hardly breathe._

_Then a hand grabbed hers after what seemed like hours, and pulled her up slowly. The sand shifted around her, easing her way up. Sunlight saturated the surface as she gasped into the air. All was silent. _

_When she rubbed the sand from her eyes she looked up at the hand that had saved her and saw Ardeth, helping her brush the sand from her hair. _

Then she had woken up.

Elizabeth twirled the slice of lemon in her tea, which had now gone cold as she tired to work out what all this meant.

As a doctor Elizabeth knew dreams were nothing short of a mixture between memories and ones mind working through the events of the day. Yet something inside her urged further this concept of meaning. With each dream becoming more vivid her mind rebelled in letting the dreams sit without learning something from them, listening to them.

But what did they mean? The dreams were a chaotic and unimaginable, fever driven reality.

As she worked out these dreams, wrote them down in her notebook, Elizabeth could not help but feel like some days the dreams would not stop. She would think about them all day, even through seeing patients.

She would be in the middle of a diagnosis and her eyes would blur, she would become suspicious as to whether she was actually awake or not. Her dreams and her reality were mixing in a way that could not be sensibly explained and she didn't know how to fix it.

* * *

**Oh my goodness, I am overwhelmed by the love for the last chapter. Truly. I find so much lifted joy in reading your messages and reviews and I'm so thrilled everyone is loving this story, as much as I have found a love and a joy in writing it. I was recently prompted with the question of a dream cast for my story, and I've been thinking about it obsessively. Typically I dreamcast before I even start a story but with this one I didn't. However it got me interesting in hearing your thoughts, do you dreamcast when you read stories? Do you have a face in mind when you read about Elizabeth? Ernest, Charlie? I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

**As always, thank you for reading and I can't wait to hear what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Darling Lizzy, _

_I've enclosed the letters you wrote to me before my visit to Cairo, and as you can see I was not "losing my mind" as you so kindly offered. Perhaps you are losing yours? _

_Hope you find what you are looking for in them. I'll let you know when I plan on visiting again._

_Also, I was rummaging through the attic earlier today and found this photo of your mother while she was pregnant with Charlie. We were on vacation in Greece. Charlie thinks she looks rather like you in this one, one of very few instances where I agree with your brother. I remember taking this photo as your mother was rather upset with me because I decided to shorten our vacation. Your brother was due to come in the next few weeks and I didn't want our first born to become a Grecian national, may I be the devil himself for even suggesting it. You often gave me this exact look growing up for random little things, like when I made you go to bed at a reasonable hour. However I noticed it significantly more the last time we were together. _

_Your mother would be so proud of you._

_Yours,  
__E. Whitmore (Dad)_

* * *

_Dad,_

_Thank you for the letters. It does seem like it was I who wrote them—I may indeed be losing my mind, so stay tuned for that. _

_Mother is so beautiful, I will keep her at my bedside so that she my rest with me and have the best view of the pyramids in all of Cairo. I've been thinking about her a lot lately, wondering what she would think of all this. I hesitate to say she'd approve._

_I hope that you are doing well otherwise. I've been having nightmares lately that have kept me from even the smallest naps. Tell me, is that why you drink bourbon right before bed? Does it keep the darkness away?_

_Your daughter,  
__E. Bender-Whitmore_

* * *

_Lizzy, _

_I was glad to hear back from you. Truth be told I haven't remembered a single dream I've had in the last ten years, the bourbon might have something to do with that—give it a try but don't let it become medicinal. What happens in these dreams of yours? _

_How is our Ardeth doing? He's a fine man, Elizabeth, you've chosen well. Do you think he'd leave the continent for say perhaps a Christmas dinner in England? As I'm not certain of his religious affiliation we can refer to it a Holiday dinner instead. I don't think he'd much like it here, probably about as much as you've grown to hate it, but I think he would garner a particular delight in seeing where you grew up. Just one man's opinion. _

_Also, Charlie has been nagging me for your address, shall I give it to him or let the boy suffer? _

_Your Father,  
__E. Whitmore_

* * *

_Dad, _

_The dreams vary from night to night and are as realistic as I sit here right now. Vivid and lucid. And distracting, even when I'm seeing patients I think about them. Some mornings it takes me an hour or so to come out of a dream. Perhaps it is just a phase. _

_And in case you were curious bourbon does not help in any way whatsoever, only insomuch as a guarantee that I will awaken crankier than Aunt Meredith after you've tracked mud into the kitchen. _

_I will have to mention it to Ardeth, when I see him, about traveling. I cannot say for certain if he's ever been on a boat in the ocean, so I cannot attest to how comfortable he would be on one for seven days. Perhaps we could boat to Italy and take the train to France and ferry across the channel. We will have to see. _

_Go ahead and give Charlie the address, what's the worst that could happen? _

_Your Daughter,  
__E. Bender-Whitmore_

* * *

_Dearest Little Sister,_

_It has taken me months but I have finally found the time to write you. I hear from dad that you're getting on well and whatnot in Egypt. Great for you! Now, I must tell you about myself. _

_I've met someone. A woman someone who actually reciprocates my feelings. Ha! Can you believe it? Her name is Camilla and I am completely, ardently in love with her. She is about your age and lives with her mother in East Anglia. And get a load of this, she is England's top dressage competitor! Even went to the Olympics once! _

_Other than Camilla my life as it were has come to a traumatizing halt. I was laid off from the Post and have had no luck finding any employment. Father has been kind enough to let me stay in my old room until I find something, though I'm finding it harder and harder to stand his constant insistence of pitching me his newest book ideas. It's daily, Elizabeth. Daily. _

_Any open positions in Cairo? I could sell fruits on the street if I have to. _

_Hope you are doing well. _

_Your loving brother,  
__C. Bender-Whitmore_

* * *

_Elizabeth, _

_I am sorry I cannot see you this week but I have asked Doctor Bey to pass along a gift I believe you will find much interest in. When I found it I immediately thought of you. It is a book about ancient mummification procedures performed by the Medjai for over three-thousand years. _

_I cannot wait to see you again, though I fear it may be some time before I am able. I will imagine you caring for your patients and resting in the evening light with thoughts of the Sahara in your mind._

_A._

* * *

_Dear Charlie, _

_How wonderful you've finally found someone. Camilla sounds absolutely lovely and I cannot wait to meet her. _

_Unfortunately I don't think you'd have the easiest time finding employment in Cairo, that is unless you have become fluent in Arabic overnight. Nonetheless I do think you'd love it here. Pack away the tweed though, you won't be needing that. _

_Have you tried writing your own words? Like dad? I think you'd be particularly good at it. _

_Look forward to hearing from you._

_Your Loving Sister,  
__E. Bender-Whitmore_

* * *

_Ardeth, _

_Thank you so much for the book, it is utterly fascinating. I am impressed I am able to read most of it, being in Arabic. I am getting better. _

_I eagerly await the next time we are together. In the meantime I will think of you out in the desert, finding your way back to me. _

_Yours,  
__E._

* * *

_Dad,_

_I must tell you about a patient of mine. His name is Amil and he is nine years old. When he came to me he had been caught stealing a loaf of bread for his siblings and thusly paid the price in losing his hand. His younger sister and cousin brought him to me and I reattached his hand as best as I could. The procedure took several hours and his sister and cousin acted as my assistants. _

_It has been several months since then and every couple of days he comes and we practice hand and finger exercises—he has gotten so much stronger with each visit, a true testament to the strength of children. Yesterday, however, was the first day he could pick up a cup without shaking. Then he told me he has been doing it for several weeks at that point and I was completely speechless. Amil had regained physical function in nearly half the time I had anticipated. _

_I do understand that this is nothing short of a miracle and needed to share it with someone other than Fatima. _

_Hope you are doing well. _

_Your Daughter,  
__E. Bender-Whitmore_

* * *

_Elizabeth, _

_I write this with a hurried hand. I am amazed by your story of young Amil and I am very proud of you. So proud in fact, that just last night after several pints of beer I told a stranger of your accomplishments. He was also intrigued and impressed. Turns out he's one Mister George Weber, Secretary General of the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies! He's asked I invite you to speak at a medical conference happening next month in Cannes, France. I've inclosed the details below. Let me know what you think._

_Your father,  
__E. Whitmore_

* * *

_Dad,_

_I am very honored to be considered to speak at this conference however I must decline. Instead I am willing to offer my notes and sketches of the procedure so that other surgeons may learn and adapt their own methods to my experience. Any thing more is pure vanity and I will not have it. I do not need praise for my job, it is my duty. _

_E. Bender-Whitmore_

* * *

_Lizzy, _

_I'm not surprised by your answer at all. Atta girl. I have passed the word along to my new friend. He seemed very disappointed and didn't understand why someone wouldn't want to boast themselves on stage to a hundred other doctors. I told him "you've clearly never met anyone like my daughter," and left it at that. _

_How's about another invitation? I've included it in the envelope sealed with this letter. I suppose this is happening, let me know if you need assistance getting to England. _

_E. Whitmore_

_[Invitation enclosed;  
__Charles Everett Bender-Whitmore & Camilla Lane Winthrop  
__Request the honor of your presence for their wedding ceremony  
__At Chesterfield Park Church  
__February 2nd, 1920  
__Please R.S.V.P.]_

Elizabeth looked up from the letter, eyes wide and muttered, "My god, that was quick."

* * *

_Ardeth, _

_I find my days growing more hollow without you in recent memory—without your touch still etched in my skin. Things are changing for me here. The clinic is getting busier and I'm getting more tired with each day that passes. _

_Part of me wants to drop it all and join you in the desert, help you protect the land that is so sacred, even though I don't understand it so much. Perhaps that is why it attracts me so…I want to understand it thus it alludes me even further. I am lost here when there are four walls around than when I am outside with the vast expanse of the world in my step. _

_I hope that you return so that you may teach me to ride Darcy, I believe she has grown as anxious as me. I may have to try to teach myself, hopefully I don't end up with a broken arm. _

_If you are safe, please let me know. I love you. _

_Elizabeth_

* * *

_Elizabeth, _

_As I sit watching the sunset this evening I can think of nothing that compares except for your eyes. They are like orbs of emerald or dancing seaweed in the shallows of the sea and I think of them often. _

_I will return to you as soon as I can, so that I may teach you properly how to ride. I know I cannot stop your stubborn spirit, so be very careful when you attempt your self-education. I will pray you find yourself a natural rider. Your spirit is very much like a horse's spirit, you will not have much trouble getting used to riding._

_Until I see you again, I love you._

_Ardeth_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Weber, _

_As you may know by the letter crest I am Elizabeth Bender-Whitmore, daughter of Ernest Whitmore. I am very sorry to decline your invitation to speak at the conference and wish you the best of luck in Cannes when the time comes. _

_I do have an ulterior motive for writing, however. As a medical professional I wish to pick your brain. _

_I have a patient, let's call her Mary. For the past several months Mary has experienced bouts of a chronic cough, nosebleeds, and fainting spells that have only gotten worse as the weeks go by. In the night she is plagued with fits of sweating and nightmares even on cool evenings yet never seems to run a fever. I have ruled out the possibility of tuberculosis or cholera, as she has shown no signs of contagion. _

_Any thoughts or hypotheses are welcome. _

_Thank you,  
__Elizabeth Bender-Whitmore, M.D. _

* * *

**Hope you all enjoy this quick little experiment of a chapter and as always-let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

It was later in the week when Elizabeth sat at her desk, her notebook now filled to the brim with possible solutions to her mystery ailment. Crumpled up at her feet is the response from Mr. Weber which included the statement _"cannot be of any help without proper consultation and payment. I am located in London at…" _

Elizabeth's eyes nearly got stuck behind her head mid-roll after reading that.

For now, she made herself a cough syrup from hibiscus and honey and a bit of bourbon left over from her father's visit to stave off her chronic coughing and settled her breathing. It would have to do for now.

Still Elizabeth devoured book after book any moment she got to breathe in between patients.

"Would you quit it?" Fatima cried that evening after closing up, annoyance written across her brow. "You're shaking the whole damn building!"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes before she realized her leg had been bobbing up and down out of stress, causing a rumble beneath the desk.

"Sorry." Elizabeth rose from behind her desk for the first time in hours and walked out the back toward Darcy's small stable. Fatima followed.

**_"_****_I do not mean to be rude. What is bothering you, Eliza-bet?" _**Fatima asked in Arabic, and while Elizabeth could understand her, could not muster the brain power to speak anything but English.

"It's nothing."

"No, something is bothering you—making you anxious. You forget I have raised eight children and three grandchildren, I know trouble when I see it." Fatima said, leaning against the stable as Elizabeth brought a brush up to Darcy's mane. "It's him, is it not?"

Elizabeth smirked tiredly, "No, not exactly."

"But he has a part in it, doesn't he?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in Fatima direction, "What do you have against Ardeth? Have you met him before?"

"No, no." Fatima refilled Darcy's oat bucket while continuing, "I just know his kind."

"His_ kind?_"

"Medjai."

Elizabeth sighed and stopped her brushing. She turned to Fatima with concern.

"What do you know of the Medjai?"

"Only that they are—"

**_"_****_Help! Help! Fire!" _**

The two women swiftly turned to the voices that echoed amidst screams in the street. Quickly they both ran out the back gate. Down the road there was a roaring fire that encompassed a three story hotel.

Elizabeth, uncertain as to what to do, stood frozen. There were people passing buckets of water from the river into the windows but it was all for naught. Within ten minutes the building was in embers and rickety black logs.

A few volunteered to go in and search for survivors. Fatima clutched Elizabeth's arm and they both fought back tears. Elizabeth had her doubts that anyone could survive a blaze like that.

**_"_****_There's someone alive!"_** Was heard from inside and Elizabeth gasped.

**_"_****_Bring them to me!"_** Elizabeth called and ran back to the clinic to prepare for the patient.

Elizabeth had only treated a few burns, mostly gunpowder burns but one chemical burn in the eyes from mustard gas—half of the poor fellow's face burned away along with his eyesight, but he survived.

Elizabeth quickly slipped on her linen apron, which she used for surgeries. She was just tying the belt around her waist when Fatima rushed in, escorting the men carrying the one survivor.

When Elizabeth saw the charred skin she struggled to keep her composure. The man was nearly half burned, skin black as coal and charred. The stench of burnt flesh and blood was nothing compared to the man's agonizing screams.

Elizabeth shook all thoughts from her mind, "Okay, Fatima. Are you able to stay and help me?"

"Yes I am." The older woman said proudly and gathered up bowls of water. Elizabeth quickly administered a small dosage of morphine into the man's arm, hoping it was enough to settle his pain and cries. Then she went to work.

**_"_****_Do we know his name?" _**

The two men who brought him in shook their heads.

Elizabeth sighed as she started to mix up the burn mixture. It was a studied concoction of honey, salt, and the tiniest dash of a silver based solution which she had diluted with coconut oil. A recipe she had created while at Cambridge.

"Is…" The man muttered, "Isra…"

Elizabeth smiled, **_"Isra, is this your name?"_**

**_"_****_Y-yes. Is…is it bad?"_**

**_"_****_Isra, I will be honest it is not great. But I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you survive. So this might hurt but I promise it's going to make you feel better." _**Elizabeth spoke softly, trying to calm Isra down, he was shaking and crying but muttered in affirmation. "Fatima I want to you to run water over his burns, I will try to get as much excess fluid out as you do that." Fatima nodded and went straight to work. Elizabeth knew the water would sooth the man, if only for a moment before Elizabeth pressed into his skin with her gauze. Isra yelped and shuttered, but Elizabeth continued to talk to both him and Fatima as she continued, "**_It will get better, I promise, alright?_** Fatima, grab another spool of gauze and scissors. I'm going to apply vinegar and then the topical treatment, the honey should sooth his pain."

Fatima watched Elizabeth as she worked diligently, gingerly dapping vinegar into his burns.

"What does the vinegar do?" Fatima asked.

Elizabeth looked up at her assistant, her wide eyes full of curiosity. "It will help with bacteria build up."

"Bacteria?" Fatima said, and by her tone, had never heard the word in her life.

"Oh, I'm afraid I don't know the word in Arabic, hmm…" Elizabeth looked around and noticed the other men had left and they were alone with the patient. "You know what an infection is, yes?"

"Yes."

"It is just like that, and bacteria is actually what causes infections. Half of this man's body is now an open wound, very apt for infection." Fatima nodded as Elizabeth continued to apply vinegar to half the man's body. At this point the morphine seemed to kick in and he was drifting in and out of cognizance. Then, methodically, Elizabeth applied her topical mixture and wrapped what she could with gauze. At his waist Elizabeth looked up at Fatima. "I did not forget what we were talking about before this happened."

Fatima sighed, handing her the last length of gauze.

"You want to know why I do not approve of this man which has called you to Egypt?"

"Yes, I do."

"I will say I do not know _who _he is, but _what_ he is—is a killer."

Elizabeth paused before continuing, "Explain."

"My son, foolish as he ever was, decided he would become a treasure hunter—damn fool." Fatima sucked in a breath and refocused, "He became obsessed with this buried city Hamunaptra—he would lose himself out in the desert for days trying to find it, when one day he didn't come back."

"Do you know what happened to him?" Elizabeth asked quietly, carefully wrapping Isra's foot.

Fatima nodded her head in sorrow, "He had a partner he traveled with who survived and returned my son's gun with tales of men in black robes and ancient curses tattooed on their faces—those were the men who killed my son. Just because he got a little too close to finding something."

Elizabeth finished with Isra's wrappings and processed exactly what Fatima had just told her. There was a silence in her head that she hadn't experienced in months.

"I am—"

"Do not apologize, Eliza-bet. I know it was not your Medjai who did these things, my son was killed nearly twenty years ago." Fatima said softly, cleaning up the mess that had been made.

"I cannot speak for the Medjai, but I know them to be good people—trusting people…and I do know that if they did what you say they did to your son, then he must have gotten further than you think."

"Further to what? Legends of old, myths of ancient treasure? Don't be silly." Fatima scoffed.

Elizabeth wiped her hands clean of blood and otherwise charred ashes from Isra's body. She was conflicted by the conversation; she could refute Fatima's claims but could she testify to a truth that she did not know?

Fatima was silent for a long time before she approached Elizabeth.

"I care about you, Eliza-bet." Fatima rested her hands on Elizabeth's cheeks and sighed, "You are such a good and caring woman, I just want you to know what you may be falling into before you've gotten to the bottom."

"I will bare it in mind, Fatima." Elizabeth said and the older woman squeezed her a bit tighter. "I promise—I do not take words like this lightly."

"That is all I ask." Fatima released Elizabeth and turned to pick up her bag. "Do you need me to stay overnight to watch over him?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "No, I've got it. Go home and rest. You're getting better with procedures."

"Thank you. I will see you in the morning."

**_"_****_Goodnight." _**Elizabeth said in Arabic and watched Fatima's braid swish down her back as she turned and left the clinic. Elizabeth fell to her desk chair and sighed. Her pocket watch tapped away at ten p.m. and she sighed. Time to make tea, as she was in for a long night.

* * *

Around midnight Isra mumbled in his sleep and Elizabeth rushed to him, out of a flurry of her own fatigue. Still unconscious but sweating. She set a cold compress to his forehead.

Another hour passed before he shuttered again. Quickly Elizabeth unwrapped his bandages and reapplied water and vinegar to his wounds. She was sweating and trying to calm her breathing. She was exhausted but it was more important to keep this man alive than rest.

It would be a fight.

Another hour passed, and another. Elizabeth resorted to sitting next to him as he rested. There she drifted in and out of unconsciousness.

**_"_****_Excuse me?"_**

Elizabeth jolted awake at the stuttering voice. She saw his eye open, the other half of his face shrouded in bandages. Her heart beat was heavy but her face softened to see him awake.

**_"_****_Isra, how are you feeling?" _**He thought for several seconds before answering.

**_"_****_I am okay." _**

**_"_****_Are you in pain?" _**

**_"_****_S—some, but I am okay." _**

Elizabeth smiled. **_"You are very strong Isra. Stronger than me, it seems." _**

**_"_****_Thank you for saving me, I thought…I thought I was going to die."_**

**_"_****_I'm glad I could help." _**Elizabeth checked his bandages and he seemed to stop bleeding. She looked into his eyes and saw a glimmer of youth in them. The skin that was not charred was free of wrinkles and worry. He was very young, in his teens probably. **_"Would you like to talk about what happened?"_**

Isra looked away from her and breathed out. **_"I don't remember a lot. My father and I were taking a night to rest before we head out East for his business." _**

**_"_****_What does your father do?"_**

**_"_****_He sells spices, travels all around for them." _**Isra sucked in a breath, **_"He did, at least…I watched him…burn…"_**

Elizabeth didn't know what to say, she couldn't imagine what it was like to watch your father die, let alone burn to death. She struggled to hold back tears as one fell from Isra's eye. She wiped it softly with her sleeve.

**_"_****_I do remember something, though…something strange."_** Elizabeth nodded, urging him to continue. **_"We were getting a drink at the bar and the fire started but just before that I noticed several men outside through the window—wearing all black on black horses…I thought it strange…"_**

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat.**_ "Were they just passing by or…"_**

**_"_****_No, one walked in—I think he started the fire, doctor…but I did not see." _**

Elizabeth struggled to see straight and steadied herself by gripping the edge of the operating table.

**_"Did they happen to have tattoos on their faces?" _**She managed to stammer out.

Isra's uncovered eye widened, **_"Did you see them too?" _**

Elizabeth turn and wrapped her arms around her stomach. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. But she had to make sure. Make sure this was what she thought it was.

**_"_****_Isra, have you ever heard of Hamunaptra?"_** With all his strength he shook his head, a wince escaped through his teeth as a result. Elizabeth struggled to control the tears from her eyes as she sat back down next to Isra. Suddenly his hand reached up and wiped them wet streaks from her cheeks. Isra smiled softly and Elizabeth held his hand. **_"You should rest, Isra."_**

**_"_****_Yes, doctor. I am very tired." _**Isra said and slowly closed his eye. He was quickly asleep.

_This couldn't be. It just couldn't be,_ she thought to herself.

...

Elizabeth was alone with her thoughts for another hour before Isra stopped breathing. She spent the next three hours trying to save him, exhausting every method she knew—but ultimately could not will the breath from his lungs for more than a few minutes at a time.

He died around 4:30 a.m.

Elizabeth was slumped by his body when Fatima walked in with the sunrise. Fatima gasped when she saw Elizabeth's arms were covered in blood and her face was flushed—tears streaked her cheeks.

"Eliza-bet, what happened?" Fatima rushed toward her. She pulled Elizabeth up, her lip quivered as she looked back at Isra.

"I could not save him." Her forehead fell to Fatima's shoulder and she cried softly. "I couldn't save him. He was just a kid, and I couldn't save him."

"Shh, you cannot save everyone, Eliza-bet." Fatima hushed her cries and rubbed comfort into her back, trying not to touch the blood. "You need to clean yourself. I will call for his body to be taken."

Elizabeth nodded, without saying a word. In the sink she watched the blood mix with water and turn pink. Her hands shook, her mind was blank. Or was it clear?

When Ardeth was not with her, was he killing innocent boys like Isra? Did Ardeth even know he was innocent? Did he care? Elizabeth imagined he would consider Isra's death negligible in preventing the end of the world. But to Elizabeth, it was not. One death to prevent the deaths of all, was still one too many. There were other ways, there was always another way.

With no sleep, an ache in her stomach and a fire in her heart, Elizabeth left the clinic for the Cairo Museum of Antiquities.

* * *

"I'm here to see Doctor Terrance Bey, please." Elizabeth said as calmly as she could to the secretary outside the good doctor's door.

"Is he expecting you?" Came the short reply from the seated woman. In the future Elizabeth would not remember what the woman sounded like, or even what the color of her hair was. All Elizabeth to think about was Ardeth.

"No." Elizabeth said, "But I would like to see him nonetheless. It is important."

The secretary blinked and slowly stood. Elizabeth turned and looked out over the mezzanine of the museum. She watched as several families enjoyed the artifacts, smiling and chatting with one another. It made Elizabeth's stomach turn.

"Doctor Bender-Whitmore, what a surprise!" She heard behind her and turned. Terrence took a step back at her appearance which she suspected was rather disheveled.

"Can we speak privately?"

"Of course, of course—come in. Meena don't let anyone into my office until I say," Terrence muttered behind Elizabeth.

Inside his office Elizabeth paced.

"How soon can you have Ardeth here? I know you can send letters by air."

"It depends, anywhere between two to five hours." Terrence watched her, confused, "Is there something I can help you with, my dear?"

"No, this is between me and Ardeth. Can you call on him for me?"

"Of course, but like I said—it could take some hours." Terrence laughed in mild ire but his smile faded when Elizabeth did not indulge his humorous exasperation.

Terrence watched as Elizabeth sat down in a chair in the corner and calmly spoke.

"I'll wait."

* * *

_**Gasp! The suspense! Let me know what you think in the reviews! **_


	8. Chapter 8

**Several Months Earlier.**

"Are you Earnest Whitmore?"

Ernest turned around and saw a short Egyptian man with a bright red fez atop his head.

"Depends on who's askin.'" The man gave him a soft chuckle before stepping forward.

"By that response I am now certain that it is you whom I am required to meet."

Ernest raised an eyebrow, caution struck through his body.

"Required to meet?"

"I assure you I in no way offer a threatening aside, I have been sent by a mutual acquaintance of ours." The man paused, waiting for a response from Ernest but only got a determined silence. "Ardeth Bay, sir."

"Oh," Ernest laughed and dropped his cases with a thump. He clapped a hand into the man's and shook it vigorously, "Well why didn't you say so?"

...

Ernest took a seat in the cafe opposite Doctor Terrence Bey.

"And it's no relation, huh? Odd." Ernest hurried stirred his coffee and took a quick sip.

"Indeed." Terrence's eyebrows raised, "Mister Whitmore it has come to my attention that our chieftain has been quite taken with your daughter. And I am under the assumption there shall be a proposal of sorts in the near future."

Ernest paused for a moment, struck with an expression akin to a punch.

"I'm sorry—a who and a what?"

Terrence laughed in a nervous way, befuddled himself.

"Has Elizabeth not told you?"

"Told me what, exactly?" Terrence paused for several moments at his words, in deep thought. Ernest suddenly laughed heartily, garnering the attention of a few passer's by. "I'm just kiddin' bud, she told me."

"Everything?"

"Even the you know what, in the you know where." Ernest said with cryptic air and took a well-timed sip. Terrence was still too shaken by the audacity of this American to ask what exactly he meant by his previous statement.

"Very good, Mister Whitmore—"

"Oh called me Ernie."

"Very good, _Ernie." _Terrence shifted, his discomfort hardly contained. "Back to my main intention for this meeting. I believe there is reason to expect a proposal soon from our chieftain and I—well, I suppose I have called upon your presence to vet you—I'm afraid, for lack of a better phrase."

"You think my daughter has ill-intentions?" Ernest said pointedly.

"No, not exactly. This is mostly procedural. I am quite pleased myself Ardeth has found someone so—so…honest and kind. I had my worries that anyone could even break through to him."

"You're telling me." Ernest huffed out. "I've been worrying about Lizzy since she was twelve. Head-strong and independent and guarded. Now, I didn't raise her to be a wife, you see. She's better than that, smarter too. But I can't say I'm disappointed she's decided to let her guard down someone like Ardie. Hardly a man like 'im, I can see now why she came back here for him."

"Yes, Ardeth indeed has a brighter future than any one of us can possibly anticipate, of that I am certain. He trained from a very young age to be where he is today, it is his calling. And your Elizabeth, you think she will abide by this calling?"

Ernest took a considerable pause. "You know, Elizabeth is a lot like her mother. Doesn't look a lick like her on the outside, but the inside? She becomes more like Maria everyday. She was a doctor too, damn good doctor." He paused again and took a sip. Terrence held in a sigh of mild impatience but was warned the father Whitmore was truly a storyteller of another breed. "I was eighteen when I met Maria, she was a nurse and I was a clumsy idiot who found himself with a broken wrist one dark evening in July. I was in London for school and the year was 1885…"

* * *

**Present.**

Elizabeth sat in Terrence's office with reluctant patience. She had no other choice but to wait. During this time she had a considerable amount of time to think. Not knowing when Ardeth would show up, every thought that crossed her mind was filled with anticipation and anxiety.

Elizabeth had never felt nervous to see Ardeth, only ever excitement.

Somehow through all her thoughts of frustration, confusion, and anger, Elizabeth could not get herself to thoughts of hate. She did not hate Ardeth, nor the Medjai. Not just yet. She only wanted answers.

Hours passed and she could not help but drift in and out of consciousness. She did not dream, however, it was merely honest rest, which she needed desperately.

Elizabeth thought of death often. Ever since she found her mother dead when she was very young, Elizabeth could think of nothing else. The concept itself motivated her to become a doctor, to save people, to prevent…death.

Elizabeth thought of death often. When Britain announced its entry into war with Germany it was not a question of _if_, but _when_ she could serve. As it was not traditional for women to enlist as surgeons she requested a special reference from her professors at Cambridge.

At her last request, a particular professor Doctor Brigham Melborne looked her in the eye and suggested she'd be better off working home from England, building a better Britain for which soldiers could return home. Elizabeth consequently left his office and submitted her letters one short, but was able to convince the medical recruiters her skills were valuable.

Elizabeth thought of death often. During the war Elizabeth lost more patients than she could save. She lost friends, a lover, a companion—all for her country's selfish desire to rule. She saved all she could but still it was not enough.

Elizabeth thought of death often. Opening up a clinic in Cairo was not about her, not really. Nor was it based around some savor complex by which she could feed her ego by healing those less fortunate than her. No, it was about life. Preservation of life. It did not matter who it was that was dying, she took an oath to save whoever she could—no matter the circumstances.

Thinking of death so often starts to shift in concept within a person's mind. It becomes less like a finish line and more of a bullet by which to dodge. Preventable, avoidable.

Over the past year her mysterious sickness was only getting worse and as accomplished a doctor as she was, could still not figure out what ailed her so. Elizabeth was not naive, she was not foolish. She knew that unexplained, un-researched illnesses only went down one pathway.

Death.

In her mid-20s Elizabeth may not have felt content with her time, with her accomplishments, but she would not regret it. She would not fight it. Of course she would find a way to prevent it from happening, but if her intellect failed and the symptoms got worse—what more could she do?

Eventually the sun had set, the museum was prepped to close and Elizabeth continued to stare out of the only window in Terrence Bey's office.

_Elizabeth relaxed in bed next to Ardeth. He laid next to her, eyes closed, but not asleep. She watched his bare chest rise and fall slowly, serene. His breath was soft and warm. _

_Elizabeth wanted to say something but didn't know anything that could encapsulate her feelings in that moment. She experienced several moments like these. She resolves to softly run her fingers through his hair—newly washed and soft, a little damp. At the touch Ardeth shifted and he let his head fall onto her chest with a heavy sigh. After an entire night of making love and talking and general activities unrelated to sleep they were considerably exhausted, but in the best way possible. _

_Elizabeth shifted to her pillow, holding Ardeth to her chest. Her fingers still played with his hair and absentmindedly started to weave a small plait into the side of his head. _

_"What is this?" Ardeth reached up and ran his fingers over the woven lock of hair. _

_"It's a plait." Elizabeth said softly. She watched as Ardeth felt it and a warm smile fell on his face. _

_"Can you show me how you do it?" He asked. Elizabeth tried to hide her enthusiastic smile but failed. _

_She separated a lock of her own hair and held it out to him. _

_"You separate the hair into three pieces and you weave the two outside in over the piece in the middle, like this." Ardeth watched her and nodded, then tried his luck. Elizabeth was surprised he picked it up immediately. _

_That morning Ardeth played with her hair for hours, plaiting and running his fingers through it. She would never need to invest in a comb if she had Ardeth. _

_"Do you regret being here?" Ardeth said softly into her neck that morning. _

_"No, why would you say a silly thing like that?" Elizabeth replied, holding him closer. Ardeth let out a small laugh on the side of a breath. _

_"I am just making certain that this is real." _

_"It's very real." Elizabeth kissed his head softly. Then his cheek. Then his neck. There was nothing but kindness and love shared between them. She leaned up to whisper in his ear, "Does this feel real?" _

_—_"Elizabeth?"

Her body jolted to a stand from the memory like a sudden shock to the system. Ardeth stood in the doorway with Terrence, nearly breathless and confused.

"Elizabeth is every think okay? You look…" Ardeth approached her but she took a pointed step back.

"Doctor Bey, could we have a bit a privacy please?" Elizabeth requested and Terrence nodded before shutting the two of them in his office. Ardeth looked back to Elizabeth who began to pace.

After several hours of waiting she still had not devised even a sentence that could encapsulate what she was feeling. Rambling would have to do.

"Elizabeth, please tell me why you needed to see me so urgently. Are you hurt?"

"No, no—not really." Quickly she sat back down and breathed out.

"You are not acting like yourself, Elizabeth." Ardeth looked out the window, a deep bellow of the wind hit the cracks in the window frame with a whistle. "The winds can feel your discomfort."

"A fleck of sand could feel my discomfort in this moment, Ardeth. I am not hiding it." Her head was in her hands. "Do you know what it's like to burn to death, Ardeth?"

Ardeth's gaze narrowed and he slowly sat at Terrence's desk, watching her. When he did not respond Elizabeth continued.

"I cannot attest to the visceral pain of it, however I can now attest to watching a man succumb to severe burns that covered almost his entire body. Not even a man…" Elizabeth spoke softly, a small scratch in her voice that threatened a break. Ardeth remained silent, his eyes trained on the floor. She continued, "You know, I've been stabbed, shot, in the range of grenade shrapnel, but none of that pain could compare to what I witnessed yesterday evening, and all through the night. Screams that echo…echo in your chest, Ardeth…worse than—worse than war."

Elizabeth stood and looked out the window.

"Elizabeth—" He started but she swiftly turned.

"No. I am not finished. Ardeth…" Elizabeth breathed out and bit her lip, "He was just…" She sucked in a sob, clinching her fist. "Just a boy, no older than seventeen traveling with his father for spices. Before you mull about the truth, he told me everything he saw right before he died in my arms."

Ardeth looked up at her, his own breath seemed caught and strained. He watched her for several moments before speaking.

"The hotel housed a group of missionaries from Portugal, set to invade Hamunaptra. My men did as ordered."

Elizabeth nodded, "And did you even consider that a hotel, popular one at that, located right by the river, would be inhabited by more than just these potential threats to Hamunaptra?"

"I did." Ardeth said plainly.

"And you just thought, what exactly?"

"Elizabeth you don't understand—"

"No, no I think I understand completely." She was now pacing and forcing the confused and frustrated expressions on Ardeth's face away from her mind. Never in her year of knowing him had she ever interrupted him in such a way—with such force.

"It is my duty, Elizabeth. To protect the sacred city—"

"Well this is _mine_!" She yelled. There was a heavy air in the silence after her words. Never in her year of knowing him had she ever risen her voice to him. The level of her tone remained the same as she continued. "I've devoted my life to saving others and you proceed without a care of who your actions actually effect, who your actions kill…Would you like to know the last words that_ child_ said to me? As the light went from his eyes and his body stopped shaking from the unimaginable pain of his burns rippling through his muscles down to the bone he asked me to tell his mother he was sorry he couldn't save his father."

Elizabeth rested her hands on the edge of the chair and really wanted to punch something. She stared at her white knuckles and could not will a lesser grip.

"Then perhaps our lives are fundamentally different after all." Ardeth said quietly. Elizabeth refused to look at him. Not now.

"Yes, perhaps they are." The words stung Elizabeth like a knife to the stomach, and she was holding the hilt.

There were several more moments of silence before she looked up. Ardeth was gone and she was alone in the office. Elizabeth let out a choked sob and fell to the chair.

Elizabeth knew she could not cure her own death. But when death would come, she may very well welcome it.

* * *

_**Please don't hate me after this chapter, things will start to look up! ...Eventually. Let me know what you think!**_


	9. Chapter 9

Two months and six days pass. Christmas passes, New Year's passes with hardly a blink of acknowledgement from the English doctor of Cairo. To Elizabeth, these events seemed unimportant when she needed to be saving people, curing people of their ailments. Cultivating health and preserving life.

Elizabeth had made no attempt to contact Ardeth, which he in turn made no effort either—that she knew of. But. hardly a day would go by where she did not think of him, what he was doing—if he was thinking of her and what she had said. She did not regret a word that came from her mouth that evening. But now, she wished she had kept the anger with which she said them, to herself.

Love is selfish. Love is rare.

Love is selflessness. Love is hardship.

Elizabeth knew the two sides of the spectrum from which her and Ardeth stood when facing this relationship. It was a common topic of conversation, and always in the ends of their conversations they agreed on an ultimate and all encompassing turn of phrase which possessed their ideal perspective. Love is love.

Elizabeth knew it was compromise, and she knew it was hardship. It was all these things wrapped up in a chaotic ball of absurdity and no matter how much she argued with herself about the intentions of love it all boiled down to the mantra of;

Love is love.

Love is love and Elizabeth refused to try—to love. Of course their lives where fundamentally different, she would have been daft to think anything otherwise after the first second of meeting. But it was their differences that which enchanted Elizabeth so. When she had first met him Ardeth was unlike any man she had ever met, unlike any person she had ever met. The perfect blend of kind, strong, intelligent, and—god-forsake it—presented himself levels of graces and beauty that was peerless and inimitable.

And now Elizabeth—stubborn, regretful, and alone—stood at the foot of her bed, an empty suitcase laid open and ready to be packed. She let out a heavy sigh, which stung her chest and came out belated like weak breezing whistle.

"Eliza-bet!" Fatima called from downstairs, "Are you ready yet? The ship will be here any moment!"

Elizabeth eyes fluttered closed and forced herself to start packing. She was only going to be in England for two weeks, for Charlie's wedding and a reluctant appointment with a physician from St. Bart's.

Fatima hobbled up the stairs and sighed loudly, "I knew you weren't ready!" She trudged over and started to fold up her pile clothes. Elizabeth shook herself out of it and started to help. However when she picked up the linen scarf which was given to her by Ardeth. she let out a choked sigh and a few tears escaped her eyes. Fatima dropped a sweater and rushed to Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry, I—" Elizabeth laughed softly, "I seem to cry a great deal these days. I never used to cry at all."

"It is okay to cry, Eliza-bet. It is okay to feel." Fatima said, wiping her tears. "You deserve this break, time to relax and forget about him, okay?"

Elizabeth was doubtful her mind would ever let it happen anyway. She had never met anyone like Ardeth, and decidedly never would again. No one would compare to him.

"I deserve it." Elizabeth said to herself as she folded the scarf up tightly and tucked it into the corner of her suitcase.

Suddenly a deep, loud ship's horn bellowed from the Nile.

"That is your ship, are you ready?"

Elizabeth nodded softly and clasped her suitcase shut.

Fatima walked her down to the bay and gave her a a soft, motherly kiss to the forehead. She pulled back and looked at Elizabeth with a certain smile which could not be deciphered.

"Tell your father I say hello, okay?" The wind whipped their hair around, picking up speed.

"Okay. Thank you Fatima. I will see you soon."

"Be careful with yourself." Elizabeth nodded and pushed her hair from her eyes. She turned from Fatima and boarded the ship.

_Be careful with yourself,_ the words echoed in Elizabeth's mind as the ship took off. Elizabeth was not certain she knew how to do that anymore.

Traveling to England from Africa was starting to become easier and shorter. Now with a year between the war and peace, the world was slowly returning back to normal, even if some were left behind.

Elizabeth would watch the waves and the cascading blue of the horizon and could think of nothing but the sand dunes, which mimicked the waves in so many ways. She imagined lying in the sand and closing her eyes for a very long time, letting the sun blister her skin and the wind cool the fire in her lungs.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her mind fell blank.

The next moment she opened her eyes she was outside of her father's townhome. Startled and confused Elizabeth took several moments to breathe, to question whether she was dreaming.

Her hand fell to the door, her finger traced the grain of the wood and sharp chill of the glass. Very real. Lost time? Was this the first time she's experienced this?

Suddenly the door was yanked open and her laughing father picked her up in bone crushing bear hug.

"Dad, I can't breathe." Elizabeth laughed and Ernest just hugged her tighter, she struggled to push herself away, "Seriously papa I can't breathe!"

Ernest let her go and tousled her hair.

"Good to see you too, Lizzy." He laughed and picked her suitcase from the porch. "Come in."

Elizabeth stepped through the foyer and noticed the house was rather spruced up, streamers and white tinsel decorated the walls.

"Looks ripe for a wedding, papa." Elizabeth laughed, fingering a petal from a vase of bright white roses. It looked quite nice, given the stark differences in light and dark features—it all seemed to work.

"Tell me about it. Ardie not want to join in?" Ernest questioned with mild disappointment.

Elizabeth suddenly struggled with the right words. She did not want to disappoint her father, but she also did not want to lie to him.

"Something came up, unfortunately. You—you know him." Elizabeth said softly and her father nodded.

"Ah, what a shame. I'll miss him. Well, I'll take this up to your room, Charlie's in the den with someone you should meet."

Nervousness welled up in Elizabeth as she stepped down the hall. She didn't know why she was particularly nervous to meet Charlie's fiancé, just that a rumble in her stomach spoke bounds of emotions her mind was not ready to admit.

"When we were kids we used to lock each other in the cupboard and wait for Elsa to open it. We'd scare the living daylights out of her." Elizabeth heard Charlie speak and the sound of a light, delightful chuckle followed.

"Charlie, that's horrible!" Said a soft feminine voice.

Charlie scoffed, "Oh it was all in good fun. If Elsa was feeling particularly playful she would switch the salt and sugar canisters and ruin our entire teatime."

"She also used to prank dad by replacing his vodka decanters with vinegar." Elizabeth said softly, leaning against the door. Charlie's head popped over and he smiled. He jumped up and enveloped Elizabeth in a long hug.

"Oh little Lizzy, I missed you."

"I missed you too, Charlie." Elizabeth said into his chest. Then she whispered, "Now introduce me to my future sister-in-law, you imbecile."

Charlie laughed, "Camilla, this my sister, Elizabeth."

Camilla jumped up and gave Elizabeth a tight hug. She could hardly register more than a blur of blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile sort of squeal in excitement.

"Oh, it's so good to meet you at last. I've heard so much about you." Camilla said when she pulled away.

"I'm afraid I haven't heard as much about you." Elizabeth said and slapped Charlie's arm. Camilla frowned softly, "We must change that at once."

Camilla led Elizabeth to the garden and for the rest of the day the Whitmore family enjoyed tea and dinner in the company of a new family member.

* * *

That evening Elizabeth laid down in her childhood bed with a full glass of red wine and a book. The sheets were freshly cleaned and smelled of lavender and the room was dark and quiet. A calm took over her mind and she was asleep in mere moments, wine and book completely forgotten.

When Elizabeth opened her eyes again, she found herself no longer in her bed in London, but in a dark, damp underground hall—with stone walls and floors of sand. There were torches lighting the way down the ha;; which looked as though it extended for miles. Had she lost time again? Was she back in Egypt?

Suddenly a wail bellowed in the distance, followed by a crescendo in abundance. Pained cries. Helpless cries. Elizabeth's immediately reaction was to grab a torch and follow the screams. She had to help.

Elizabeth followed the sounds for what seemed like miles, the voices never louder or more quiet—they seemed to be embedded in the walls. Then she found a door around the corner, the sounds were louder and more pained. She was paralyzed with fear.

Suddenly several men appeared behind her. They were scantly dressed in black linen and sported tattoos of the Medjai all over their bodies.

One grabbed her arm and said, "Come doctor, we need your help in the preparation room." Elizabeth was not certain what language he was speaking, only that she could understand it fluently.

She hardly had a moment to process what she was told before they pushed her into the room and she was met with several men, alive, being tortured upon dusty stone tables. They looked as though…_as though…no, it couldn't be. _

The men continued to push her through the room. "This way."

Elizabeth let herself be lead into a room deeper into the chamber where one lone man was tied down and thrashing about. He was young, bald, with deep brown eyes that cried for help that which his gagged mouth could not. His eyes locked onto Elizabeth's and pleaded. She could not look away.

Tools were shoved into her arms.

"Proceed." One of the men commanded. Elizabeth looked at the tools and her eyes widened. She recognized them from the book that Ardeth had given her. Mummification tools.

"No, no, I cannot—"

"You must. It is your calling." He insisted.

"What?" She hissed.

Elizabeth looked back at the bound man and tried to drop the tools but her arms would not budge. She didn't know who this man was, or what he had done. She could not do what they were asking of her, but she could not will herself to step away. It was as though her body was being controlled by a power not of this world.

With shaking limbs Elizabeth began the process as though she had done it a thousand times before. The man who she was performing the ritual upon screamed and cried and pleaded but she did not stop. Her hands would not stop.

"I'm so sorry." She cried, her teeth clinched and her arms covered in blood.

Right before Elizabeth set up to remove his tongue the man ripped his arms from the grasp of the Medjai and pulled her up to his enormous height by the lapels of her shirt. Her feet dangled nearly a foot from the ground. He looked deep into her eyes, his breath ragged and penetrated into her throat. He smelled of rot, burnt flesh, and sweat.

"I curse you deep within your body, you will not live beyond what I command." He said.

"What?" Elizabeth shuttered. Suddenly the skin on his face began to hyperactively decompose, chunks of his veins and muscles fell from his face and neck down her arms like slime. His voice growled from his chest as he continued.

"You will be cursed for eternity, your body will consume itself deep from within—just as you have done to mine. You will never survive." His skeletal hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. Elizabeth tried to push him away, pry his hands from her neck but he was too strong.

Suddenly the Medjai grabbed the man. He dropped Elizabeth and as she fell to the ground her body jolted up out of her bed in London.

Elizabeth's body was on fire and she tore the sheets from around her throat. She coughed and gagged, sputtering blood all over the clean white linen. It was a dream. All a dream.

Elizabeth scrambled over to the pitcher of water on her vanity and gulped what was left. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Blood was running from her nose and her mouth. She grabbed the sheet and wiped her face but the blood kept running.

_Your body will consume itself…_

A jolt in her chest made her gag. Elizabeth tried coughed but nothing came out. After several moments she started to cry out of pain, the tears blurred her vision—blackened like she was drowning in water. It was not water, or tears. But blood.

In her reflection Elizabeth did not recognize who was looking back at her. Pale, deeply pale and leaking blood from every crevice, like a sinking ship.

_Your body will consume itself…deep from within…_

"Lizzy! Breakfast's ready!" She heard from downstairs. The words from her father brought her attention back, she was on her floor in her room—safe but in pain.

Elizabeth continued to wipe the blood until it stopped. Nearly the entire sheet was bloodied deep red. She quickly stashed it under the bed and ran a comb through her hair. She was sweaty but looked normal, tired for the morning.

With considerable effort Elizabeth took each step with a wince, every hardened pressure beneath her feet sent a ripple of pain through her entire body.

As she rounded the corner she paused at the door to the den. The pain was suddenly subsiding. Light flooded back into her vision. She was about to step through when she paused at the conversation between her father, Charlie, and Camilla.

"Lizzy's looking a bit thin these days, pop." Charlie spoke, "I didn't notice at first until Camilla said something about it last night. Hugging her was like hugging a bag of bones."

"She's just transitioning, son. Life in Egypt is a little different than London." Ernest said, glancing up from the paper.

"Yeah but she was in Africa for years during the war. I'm just a bit worried is all."

"Miss Lizzy," Elizabeth jumped and turned to see Elsa holding a plate of sausages and eggs. "Would you care to help me bring in breakfast?"

Elizabeth nodded quickly and grabbed the plate from her hands. When she entered the den Camilla smiled at her.

"Good morning, Elizabeth."

"Morning, Camilla." Elizabeth said softly and set the food on the table. Slowly she eased herself into a chair next to her father, a careful ease that did not go unnoticed by her family.

"Sleep well, darling?" Her father asked.

"Oh, just fine." Elizabeth said as she busied herself with pouring tea. She did not miss the look that her father shared with Charlie. She plopped a couple sugar cubes into the tea and stirred gently. "So, is everything set for tomorrow?"

Camilla smiled, "Yes, I'm so excited, aren't you excited Charlie? It's going to be so beautiful."

Elizabeth smiled softly, the dazzled and dreamy look on Camilla's was enough to shift her mood to calm. As long as her body held out at least until tomorrow, she would be happy.

* * *

_**Thank you to all those who have reviewed! Let me know what you think of this one, sublime things are afoot.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Oh goodness, thank you all so much for continually reviewing, favoriting, and following. Please continue to let me know what you think, it truly gives me life. We're in the trenches now, darlings.**_

* * *

Elizabeth walked beside her brother, who clutched a box containing his freshly tailored suit in his arms. The air was too cold for her liking, it felt like ice was wrapping around her bones in tight little bows. Charlie walked with a deathly slow pace and Elizabeth matched his speed—despite the cold, she enjoyed her brother's company.

"You don't think the suit looks too…"

"Looks too what?"

"I dunno, posh?" Charlie laughed to himself and kicked a stone with his feet.

"Don't you want to look posh on your wedding day? It'd be embarrassing if you were the only one underdressed." Elizabeth replied.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Charlie sighed. Then he perked up, "Say, wanna grab tea at that cafe right there?"

Elizabeth turned to the nearly empty cafe across the street and nodded.

"Are you alright, Charlie?" Elizabeth questioned her fidgety brother once they were seated.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. Just fine. _Fine._" He repeated, and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"Are you nervous?"

Charlie twisted the tea cup around the saucer for a moment before sucking in a breath. There was something on his mind that he couldn't quite get out. Elizabeth recognized the behavior from their childhood.

Then Charlie blurted out quickly, "Do you love Ardeth? That's his name, right? Ardeth?" Elizabeth was taken quite aback by the question.

For several moments Elizabeth looked into her murky tea that was just a shade lighter than Ardeth's skin. She missed his skin.

"Yes, I do. Despite it all, I really do." She admitted.

"How do you know?" Charlie asked and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"How, how do you know you love him?" Charlie said.

"Charlie, do you not love Camilla?"

"No, no, I do—at least, I think I do, I just—" He ran his hands through his hair and groaned, "I just feel so lost right now, Lizzy—what if she realizes that I'm a total prick and leaves me?"

"Charlie I don't think she's going to do that, did you see her face this morning? When she was talking about the wedding? That girl is so excited to marry you, it's delightful." Elizabeth said honestly.

"You really think so?"

"Of course, Charlie."

"But how do I know? I don't understand this emotion at all, I feel as though we just met."

"Well, you kind of did. But that shouldn't matter if you feel it for her. If you really love her then nothing…" Elizabeth paused at her own words, with courage she finished, "—nothing should stop you."

Charlie smiled for a moment, "Why didn't Ardeth come with you?"

Elizabeth sighed and rested her elbow on the table, "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh no." Charlie paused, and then insisted, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, we just—we got in a disagreement and it's still…unresolved."

"Well I'm sure whatever it is, you can work it out somehow. Wish I could have met him this time 'round." Elizabeth could tell Charlie was a bit disappointed but he was trying to hide it.

"Yeah, I'm sure we'll figure something out." Elizabeth gave her brother a sad smile and looked back to her tea. The tea that looked like Ardeth. In one swift movement she picked the cup up and tossed the liquid out of it.

Charlie let out a brief laugh as he checked his watch. "Oh bullocks, is that really the time? I'm meeting up with some mates at the pub in a few. Wanna come?"

"Oh, no, decidedly not. Thanks for the invitation. I'll take your suit home though." She laughed and grabbed the box, god forbid he lose it somehow. "I think I'll enjoy a nice walk back home anyway."

"Okay." Charlie planted a swift kiss to her cheek. "Tell dad I'll be back for dinner."

"You got it."

Charlie rushed off, bumping into a few chairs on his way out. Elizabeth chuckled to herself as she paid and started on the short walk back home.

There was a small patch of grass that Elizabeth passed in the park that was bathed in a sunlight just peeking through the clouds. She almost kept walking but something stopped her feet in dead pace. She sat down slowly and closed her eyes.

With a moment to breathe, Elizabeth thought back to her dream the night before. She was perplexed. The dream itself was nothing short of a nightmare, but what was confusing was the episode right when she awoke. Coughing, chest pains, nosebleeds—those were nothing new. But the tears, the bloody tears were…perhaps she suffered a head injury in one of her lost moments of time?

She felt around her head for any bumps but felt nothing out of the ordinary.

Elizabeth felt certain doom swell inside her, one that had been present since that morning. A doom that felt powerful, as though something was about to happen and she had to be prepared.

She remembered the look in the man's eyes, the one whom she mummified alive in her dream. Pure terror and anger. She wondered who he was, if he was anyone at all. Elizabeth was conflicted, he could have been a figment of her imagination but at the same time…could he have been real?

No, no that's absurd. However, she'd heard a lot of absurd things in the past year. Undead mummies, resurrection, ancient Egyptian cities now lands of the dead…As far as her dreams lately had gone, this one made both the least and the most sense. Perhaps she _was_ cursed. Cursed by a man from Ancient times who was mummified alive by someone like her.

Elizabeth's eyes shot open, and she mumbled, "Imhotep?"

The next thing Elizabeth saw was the front door of her home, and it was open slightly ajar. Lost time-again? She stepped in slowly, a sudden spout of nausea hit her and she felt dizzy and hot, like she was back in the desert in her coat, hat, and mittens. The box with Charlie's suit fell from her grasp and she sat down on the cool, checkered tile.

"Oh Miss Elizabeth are you okay?" Elsa rushed to Elizabeth and fussed about her coat, unbuttoning it and spinning the scarf from her neck.

Elizabeth nodded, relived the heat from the coat was gone. "I'm fine, Elsa. Just a bit hot is all."

"Let me get you some water." Elsa rushed away and Elizabeth fell back onto the tile, a small bit of blood started to leak from her nose.

"Oh not again." She sighed. Elsa rushed back and placed a handkerchief under her nose.

"Must be this dry weather, always get nosebleeds meself," Elsa rattled on as Elizabeth took the handkerchief and the water.

"Thank you, Elsa. I'm going to go upstairs and rest. Don't—don't tell my father about what just happened."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, I am sure. I'm a doctor, remember? It's nothing—I promise."

* * *

That evening after considerable time to rest and think, Elizabeth felt recharged and excited for an evening with her brother and father. She dressed slowly in a black tunic and pants, slipping on warm wool socks which Elsa had knitted her the morning before.

Elizabeth looked in the mirror to fix her hair and smiled softly, fingers frozen mid-comb. She recognized herself this time.

_"Elsa! Grab the bottle of Beaujolais from the cellar! No—not that one! The 1913! This is a night of celebration!"_ Ernest's voice echoed through the house and Elizabeth felt an elated bubble of nostalgia fill her stomach. How could she have ever left this place?

* * *

The Whitmore clan sat around the table in the den in the late evening after dinner, the fireplace crackling and blazing, while a record gently played in the background. Elizabeth felt a bit fuzzy from the braised ribs and wine from the evening's dinner but was filled higher than a glass' brim with happiness.

"So what say you, Charlie, you ready to get married tomorrow, son?"

Charlie chuckled, "I guess I have to be, don't I?"

"What do you mean you have to be? Are you not prepared?" Ernest laughed and poured more wine for his children.

"No I'm prepared. Well—" Charlie groaned and took a heavy sip of wine. "There is the whole dancing bit."

Elizabeth chuckled, "Oh no, Charlie, you've never been a good dancer."

"Dancing's not so hard, you just gotta practice. Come on." Ernest stood and gestured for Charlie to join him. Elizabeth giggled at her brother's reluctance. Nonetheless he stood and shrugged at his father. "Okay, you lead, I'll be Camilla."

"No, absolutely not." Charlie shook his head and backed away.

"Okay fine, I'll lead and you be Camilla." Charlie sighed at his father's insistence, "Do you wanna learn or not?"

"Fine." Charlie said reluctantly. Ernest flipped on another record, a waltz. He took his son's hands and started to lead him about the room. Charlie, who's feet were no more coordinated than a cow's stomped all over his father's feet immediately. "I can't do it, I'm going to send her to the hospital with a broken foot on our wedding day."

"Oh, it's not that hard, Charlie!" Elizabeth laughed from the table, enjoying herself very much.

"Like you're such an expert!" Charlie refuted. "Cambridge have a waltzing elective, did they?"

"Come on, Lizzy. Let's show him how it's done." Ernest pulled his daughter up and restarted the record. Elizabeth assumed her position and slowly they started a simple waltz.

"Right, you all make it look so easy, arseholes." Charlie huffed and fell into his chair.

Ernest spun Elizabeth out and back in with ease.

"I don't think I've danced in nearly five years." Elizabeth eyes leaked with tears but the good kind, the kind brought on by excitement—happiness, and drunkenness.

"Well you'll have your fill tomorrow at the reception." Ernest spun her again and brought her back. Elizabeth enjoyed the innocent dance with her father, he was after all the one who taught her to dance in the first place. "I remember when you used to put your little feet up on my shoes and I showed you the steps that way."

The song swiftly came to a close, Ernest dipped Elizabeth, swung her back up and spun her out.

"See Charlie boy! Not so hard!" Ernest clapped Charlie on the back with a chuckle.

Elizabeth laughed at Charlie's overzealous sigh of defeat. She busied herself with picking through a bowl of fresh blackberries when she suddenly felt nauseas again. Perhaps it was too much spinning which caused it this time.

Elizabeth leaned against the table for support. _Definitely too much spinning, must be. _She breathed out heavily, garnering the attention of her father.

"Lizzy are you alright?" Ernest watched as her feet wobbled and her back straightened.

She started, "Yes, yes, I'm fi—"

"Elizabeth!"

Ernest ran to his daughter but could catch her before she fell to the floor with a heavy thud, bringing the bowl of blackberries with her.

"Charlie, get Elsa, tell her to call for a car." Ernest ordered and brushed Elizabeth's hair from her face.

"Is she okay?" Charlie stood shocked, frozen, a ripple of chills swept his body.

"Now, Charles." Ernest commanded and Charlie sprinted for the kitchen.

"Elizabeth, darling, come on." Ernest tapped her cheeks. She was cold, a thin layer of sweat coated her skin and a small trickle of blood fell from her nose. He held her close and shook her in fear, "Come on wake up, Elizabeth!"


	11. Chapter 11

_**Hello all! Here's a long one for you. This chapter was one of the hardest I've written not just because of the length but because I know it is the preface to another difficult point in our story. I do truly hope you enjoy this one, as much as one possibly can. My updates will start to slow down this month with the semester starting back up again but I will try my best to stick with this one until the end. I always seem to come back to Elizabeth anyway. **_

_**Please enjoy and let me know what you think in the reviews!**_

* * *

Ardeth sat by the fire which he had made in contemplation, after a small dinner of rice and chopped vegetables. He watched the ruby sun in silence as it was swallowed whole by the whipped tops of the sand dunes and relished in the warm wind that followed.

A rustle from behind pulled him from his meditation. Abdal sat next to him in a huff, still munching on his dinner.

"Evening, Ardeth." He grunted out.

"Abdal," Ardeth nodded and looked back into the sunset, colors now shifting to violet.

"I am going to Cairo in the morning, would you like to join me?" Abdal asked.

Ardeth breathed out, eyes still trained on the horizon as little stars began to poke their way through the darkness.

"No, I will stay."

"Are you certain? You do not wish to see Elizabeth?"

"It is not that I do not wish to see her, it is that…" Ardeth paused and closed his eyes.

"Ah, did you find out?"

Ardeth turned to Abdal with a questioning gaze, "Find out what?"

Abdal's head tilted, expressing his own confusion. "That she is sick? Has she not…" Abdal suddenly shut his mouth, realization written in his sheepish smile.

Suddenly a high pitched squawk echoed across the canyon and Horus, Ardeth's most trusted Saker falcon landed on his arm with a note tucked into its leg. The note read, **_"Come to Cairo at once. Word from London." _**

Abdal read the note over Ardeth's shoulder, "Looks like you might be joining me anyway."

"We will go now." Ardeth stood, placing his response in the band on Horus' leg.

"Now?" Abdal clumsily stood, bowl of food still in hand.

"Yes, now." Ardeth hopped onto his horse, "I will start the path, join me when you can."

* * *

On the quick journey to Cairo Ardeth refused to let his mind create circumstances which imagined the worst turn of events. As far as he knew Elizabeth was still in the city, caring for those wounded and sick, and thoughts of him far from her mind. But there was something deep within his heart that sang a certain distrust of optimism.

Terrence stood at the front steps of the museum with a string of thin papers draped in his hands. Ardeth jumped from his horse and rushed to him, Abdal on his trail.

"Terrence, what is it?" Ardeth said, hurried. Very rarely had Abdal seen Ardeth so distraught, even now it was contained—his tell was cursory breath and a slight shake in his hands. It was a trait that Abdal had first seen in their first battle together, but now spoke to something quite different. Something quite like fear.

Terrence brought up the strips of dotted paper, "I have been in contact with Ernest Whitmore since six a.m. this morning—"

Ardeth immediately asked, "Is Elizabeth safe?"

"It remains to be seen," Terrence sighed, "She is in the hospital, only waking every so often. They are considering surgery—"

"When is the next boat to England?" Ardeth interrupted again. No thoughts, only action.

Terrence sighed and glanced at Abdal, whose teeth were clinched and eyes trained on the ground—emotion unreadable.

"Tomorrow morning there is a boat out of Alexandria. If you leave now you will make it."

Ardeth gave him a stern nod and turned to his horse. But before he could mount Abdal grabbed his arm.

"Ardeth, you must let me come."

"No, I need you here." Ardeth said with finality and mounted his horse.

With borrowed courage, Abdal spoke, "She is my friend too, Ardeth."

Ardeth sighed, fists clinching the reins.

"I know Abdal, but you are the only one I trust to stay in my place." Ardeth said honestly, "I will let you know how she is when I arrive." He started to ride when Abdal spoke again.

"Do not forget, that she is—"

"I know. I will contact you as soon as I can." Ardeth clicked and his horse was off North to Alexandria.

* * *

Ardeth was anxious, twisting his hands together on his lap as he sat patiently on the upper deck of the ocean liner RMS Mauretania, the last day of his journey to England. Thoughts of Elizabeth and their last interaction plagued his mind and kept him from rest. Thoughts of what else he could have done instead of walk away, things he could have said, compromises he could have made. But he ran away instead, like a coward.

Ardeth at one point would have done anything to have Elizabeth, to be with her, but when that was questioned he could not commit. Why had he treated her so? Abandoned her when she needed answers that he could give? Could he even give them?

A deep, blustering horn interrupted his thoughts as the ship docked. He looked out into the city which he'd only seen in his imagination, burgeoned from descriptions told by Elizabeth.

_"It's a dreadfully dark city, grey and brown in color and little else. I think you'd hate it." _She had said several nights after their first meeting. Ardeth remembered her soft laugh after the statement, which was quickly followed by,_ "I quite hate it too." _

The hospital was a very tall building, and white alabaster which struck Ardeth as particularly cold and uninviting. Upon walking in, pushing away an overwhelming urge of discomfort, Ardeth set off in search for Elizabeth.

Upon the third floor, Ardeth peered down a long white hallway and saw a speck of three loud bodies at the end.

"What do you mean you won't operate on her?!" Ardeth heard bellowed by a voice he knew belonged to none other than Ernest Whitmore. Ardeth quickly strode down the hall as Ernest continued, "She's dying in there and no doctor within a hundred miles will touch her!"

"Lower your voice, Mister Whitmore. We've ran our tests, we've taken samples—consulted doctors in France. I'm afraid we cannot operate until we know what we're looking for."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"Dad, calm down." A young man, older than Elizabeth but with the same shoulders pushed his father back from the doctor, who quickly stumbled back in fear of a pummel. He turned and swiftly rushed past Ardeth.

"Well if you can't do your job I'll find someone else who can!" Ardeth watched as Ernest pulled himself from the young man's grasp and kicked a chair with an abrupt grunt. Slowly Ardeth approached the two.

"Can I help you?" The young man asked, sniffling to himself and wiping a bit of a tear from his eyes. Ardeth could not deny the resemblance in emotion. This must be Elizabeth's brother, Charlie.

Ernest turned and his shoulders immediately relaxed, "Thank god, Ardie." He quickly approached Ardeth and wrapped his arms around him, to which Ardeth softly returned.

"Elizabeth, how is she?" Ardeth tried to look through the slatted and foggy glass of the room but could only see a faint outline of a bed.

Ernest sighed and rubbed his hand obsessively over his mustache.

"They don't know, no one will tell me what they know. I'm beginning to think they _don't know anything!_" He spoke the last bit loud enough for the doctor down the hall to hear. Ernest angrily set the chair back up and sat down, head in hands.

"Can I see her?" Ardeth asked Charlie softly. He looked at Ardeth for several moments before nodding. Charlie gently turned the knob to the door and led Ardeth into the room.

"She hasn't woken up today. Maybe your presence will encourage her to come out of her dreams." Charlie said but it was merely fuzzy noise to Ardeth as he gazed upon Elizabeth in the bed. She was small, smaller than he remembered of their time in Egypt. Her hair was flat, skin paler than he had ever seen it. There were dull circles around her eyes and her lips were no longer a perfect peach of red but blanched of nearly all color. Ardeth could not deny the thought that she appeared dead already.

Charlie quickly ushered Ardeth to the chair next to the bed, unbeknownst to the fact he nearly tripped over the sight of her.

"How long has she been like this?" Ardeth questioned, afraid to look away from her.

"We don't know. The doctor's think she may have had whatever this is for a long time. But again, all skepticism right now." Charlie sat at the edge of the bed, watching Ardeth—a look of peculiar curiosity on his face.

"When she's awake is she…"

Charlie gave a nod, "Sometimes she is lucid, sometimes it's like her eyes are open but she's—I don't know, somewhere else."

Ardeth was silent as he watched her chest move up and down very slowly. He was suddenly struck with what Abdal had said right before he left. Something about Elizabeth telling him she was sick. If she had indeed told Abdal something, it must have been a long time ago. Months, even.

"She kept it from all of us, mate." Charlie said, sensing his thoughts. "Our housekeeper said she found her in the foyer nearly passed out last week. Elizabeth told her not to tell anyone. She thought she could fix it herself."

"And now she is here."

"Now she's here." Charlie repeated. He took a few moments to regain himself before turning to Ardeth, "I will say it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much."

Ardeth nodded, sensing a quiver in the young man's voice, an urge to sound normal, "It is a pleasure to meet you as well. I must congratulate you, yes?"

Charlie let out a desperate chuckle, "Thank you but we postponed the wedding until…didn't think it was right to celebrate without her…" He gestured to Elizabeth, "We brought her here the night before, you know. It was so strange, we were dancing and drinking and she seemed perfectly fine. Then she just dropped and hasn't gotten back up." Charlie ran his hands over his face, a common trait of nervousness amongst Whitmore men.

Elizabeth suddenly let out a heavy breath and her head shifted. Ardeth felt his breath hitch in his throat.

"She does that every so often." Charlie muttered. He checked his watch and sighed, "I need to check on Camilla. Will you check in on my father when you can?"

Ardeth nodded softly and turned his attention back to Elizabeth. Ardeth was met with a blockade in his head. What could be done now? He had never been so defenseless in his life and now had a list of regrets.

Ardeth slipped his hand underneath hers and held it softly, he wanted to see her eyes and talk to her but he didn't know what he would say.

Ardeth felt a small callous on the inside of her pointer finger. His mind searched for reasons why she had it but quickly realized that he had the same one. It was from the reins of his horse. So she had been teaching herself to ride.

He imagined she was quite good at it now, to garner a callous. This pulled a small smile to his lips, but it was all for naught. How much he had missed in her life in just a few short months? In truth, now upon seeing her, Ardeth never wanted to miss anything again.

What could be done when it seemed like the only one who could save Elizabeth, was Elizabeth herself?

* * *

Ardeth jolted awake with the sound of a stilted cough and movement on the bed. He had fallen asleep in the chair, head resting on the bed, clutching Elizabeth's hand. He sat back as Ernest helped Elizabeth drink out of a glass of water.

Another pained cough but Elizabeth was awake.

"Lizzy, Ardeth is here." Her father whispered and she nodded.

"I know," came her gruff but still soft voice. She refused to look at him. "Did you talk to Doctor Skelton?"

"That son of a bitch is not going anywhere near you with a knife." Ernest said as he sat back down, opposite Ardeth. Elizabeth let out a sigh.

"I need an operation, dad, even if it's ex…exploratory." Elizabeth shifted to the pillow and struggled to keep her eyes open. Her speech was slurred and barely coherent.

"That's what I told him and he clammed up." Elizabeth sighed at her father's words but nodded nonetheless. "But, I have a lead with another doctor and he's coming up from Wales tonight."

Elizabeth nodded again, holding her hand up to her forehead, as though she were dizzy.

"I can't seem to focus," she said.

Ernest filled her glass up with more water and held it under her lips. It was a small sip which she took down with much pain.

"We'll leave you alone to rest, Lizzy." Ernest kissed her forehead and gestured for Ardeth to follow him outside. Once the door was closed Ardeth ran his hand through his hair and looked out the window in the hall. Elizabeth had been right, he did hate London.

"She doesn't want me here." Ardeth said, sensing Ernest's presence behind him.

"Yes, she does." Ernest rested a hand on Ardeth's shoulder.

"She won't look at me."

Ernest sighed and leaned against the windowsill. He stuck his hand into his jacket pocket and produced a flask. He took a swift swig and passed it to Ardeth.

"You've never been in a fight with Lizzy. She's just like her mother. It'll seem like she doesn't want to be around you but in truth that's the last thing she would ever want. Took me twenty years to figure that out with Maria. Elizabeth is no different, only it takes a lot more to set her off."

Ardeth took a swig of whatever alcohol was in the flask and held back a grimace as he passed it back. He believed that the events which transpired months ago was more than enough to set her off, so he did not blame her. But her reaction seemed…different. It seemed like she was pushing her father away as well.

Ardeth and Ernest spent most of the day in silence, save for random breaks of frustrated arguments between the doctors on Ernest's part. Ardeth couldn't help but empathize with Elizabeth's father. His daughter was sick and possibly dying, he was distraught and angry and barely keeping it together. Ardeth was well on his way there.

Charlie showed up that evening with whom Ardeth assumed was his fiancé Camilla, who was entranced by his very appearance. Ardeth attributed the stare by most he'd met outside of African culture, as merely something they had never seen before in their lives. He would stare as well.

_Elizabeth didn't stare,_ he thought. Elizabeth…Elizabeth gazed. She gazed at him like he was the only thing in the world, she often made him feel quite loved and small at the same time. A special talent.

Within the hour Camilla took Ernest home for a shower and a good meal. Considerately they had brought Ardeth food as well, he hadn't eaten since he arrived—hadn't even thought of it.

Charlie and Ardeth sat on either side of Elizabeth's bed as she slept that evening. Ardeth fought the urge to touch her, to hold her hand while her brother distracted himself with a thick novel in his lap.

Elizabeth's breath was ragged and pained. Even in her sleep it looked as though her body was wracked with ripples of pain.

"I'm going to take a walk, would you like to join me, Ardeth?" Charlie said, stretching in his chair.

"No, I am fine right here."

Charlie nodded hesitantly, and opened his mouth to say something but left before he gave himself the chance.

Ardeth closed his eyes and rested his head on the bed. Helpless, Ardeth felt helpless for the first time in a very long time.

Elizabeth's body shuttered but he thought nothing of it, as she was quite restless throughout the day. But when he felt a hand fall on his arm his head immediately popped up.

Her eyes were open, wide open and bloodshot, staring at him.

"Ardeth?" Came her shocked voice.

"Yes." He shifted and held both of her hand in his. This seemed to calm her down. "Yes, it is me."

"Is my family here?"

"No, they have gone."

"Good." Elizabeth said softly and cleared her throat. "Ardeth, I…"

Ardeth brushed her hair from her face and placed his hand on her cheek, a strained tear fell from her eye except it wasn't clear, but beat red like blood.

"What is it, Elizabeth?"

"I'm going to die, Ardeth." The words came out honest and quick but Ardeth felt his blood run cold, just at this simple statement.

"No, you aren't going to die, I won't allow it." He said.

Elizabeth gave him a small, but strained chuckle, "I understand but I believe there are forces at work here that far surpass your allowances."

"What do you mean, forces? Do you know something?"

"I just know that there is no one that can save me." Elizabeth said softly and Ardeth's head fell, still clutching her hand, her other hand softly fell into his hair. "I'm—I'm only going to get worse and soon I won't be able to move, to speak."

"No, no—you can do something—"

"Ardeth, people die…it happens." Elizabeth said, her hand clutching Ardeth's as tight as possible. "It is just my time, that is all."

"Elizabeth…" He breathed out and let every inhibition down. "I am sorry for our last conversation, I—"

"I know, Ardeth. I am sorry as well. But it does not matter now." She gently ran her fingers from his temple down his jaw and a small smile hit her face. As though an entire new emotion hit her with full force. "You look so sad."

"I don't believe I can live without you." Ardeth squeezed his eyes shut and his forehead fell to hers.

"Yes you can, and you must. You are so important to this world, my habibata."

"As are you." Ardeth said quickly.

"I am no good like this," Elizabeth coughed into her sleeve, "I am no good to anyone." Her eyes became heavy and she let out another cough.

Ardeth held the glass of water to her lips and wiped a small droplet from the corner of her mouth.

"Ardeth, please say something." She begged, her grip on his hand becoming weaker.

"I don't know what to do Elizabeth."

"I don't want you to sit here and watch me die." Elizabeth coughed again and a smattering of blood riddled her sleeve. Ardeth stood and shifted her body to lay down flat. Her hand reached up again and her eyes grew glossy. Her fingers traced the tattoo on his left cheek. In that moment Ardeth wondered if she knew he was real, or imagined in her head. "I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much as I loved you, Ardeth."

"I love you with all my heart, Elizabeth. Do not leave me."

"Please…Ardeth…I don't want to die here." Her voice came out strained, and it completely shattered Ardeth. He could do nothing to save her.

"Tell me what to do."

"Take me away from here," came her soft whisper, eyes fluttering like a humming bird's wings.

"Where would you like to go?"

"Where we met. I want to go back…to where we met…" Her eyes fluttered closed and Ardeth leaned down to place a soft kiss on her warm forehead.

"As you wish." He whispered, his hand still wrapped around hers.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you everyone for your continued support. I am not even certain how to preface this one except for; nothing is permanent. **

* * *

"Tell me what to do."

"Take me away from here," came her soft whisper, eyes fluttering like a humming bird's wings.

"Where would you like to go?"

"Where we met. I want to go back…to where we met…" Her eyes fluttered closed and Ardeth leaned down to place a soft kiss on her warm forehead.

"As you wish." He whispered, his hand still wrapped around hers.

Elizabeth fell fast asleep as Ardeth sat back in his chair, now with purpose and much contemplation in his future.

A voice, a gruntled clearing of the throat made Ardeth stir to attention. Charlie stood at the door, his hands in his pockets, eyes bloodshot. He had heard everything and Ardeth was struck with silence.

"You know," Charlie started, his voice noticeably broken as he continued, "when we thought Lizzy had died in battle, my father nearly went insane. We lost mum and then my sister decides to go off to war. I couldn't fight, I had a much more important position according to the government; _reporting_. Such bullshit." Charlie scoffed as he moved to sit at the end of the bed and looked at Ardeth. In that moment, unbeknownst to Charlie, Ardeth found him quite admirable, an akin spirit of pride. "My little sister went off to fight and I had to stay. I was so proud of her, my little sis…When we found out she was missing just as the war ended it was like both our lives had ended as well. But dad, he…the thought of losing his daughter was far too much for him to handle. I love my father but he's a very fragile man, even though he doesn't show it. If we had lost Lizzy...I don't think he could have survived it…"

"Why are you telling me this, Charlie?"

Charlie sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You know I've never seen Elizabeth talk like that to anyone. I'll be honest, I was skeptical of you at first." Ardeth raised his eyebrows, and Charlie laughed, "Mate, you've got tattoos on your face—oh, never mind it. I was always skeptical of anyone interested in my little sister. It's my job and I've taken it quite seriously. But as I said, I've never seen her even look at anyone the way she looked at you just then, even sick as a dog. My point, Ardeth, is that I trust my little sister but she would never tell me she was dying—nor our father. But she told you so I'd wager it's not too far from the truth. She's a brilliant doctor, she must know something about her current condition."

Charlie stood and walked to the window. He breathed in a few times and turned.

"When we got the letter that Lizzy was missing in action our father had spiraled but still had hope, deep down. I was not so hopeful. I'd had countless mates die over there, I knew what it was like. I'd been mentally preparing myself for her death since the day she left. Each day with her since she returned was just…added bonus. But she's changed. She doesn't belong to England anymore. Elizabeth wants to return to Egypt, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then I will help you to her back to where she belongs." Charlie said simply. Ardeth felt a jolt of something hit his chest, a heart palpitation that erupted in what he could only call relief. "What do we need to do?"

* * *

By the light of the moon, Charlie and Ardeth conceived and executed their plan to remove Elizabeth from the hospital and onto a boat to set to sail for Egypt.

It was a simple plan, Ardeth carries her out of the hospital while Charlie waits patiently in their father's brand new ruby red automobile in the back.

"Elizabeth wake up." Ardeth tapped her cheek and nudged her shoulder. Slowly her eyes fluttered open. "Elizabeth I need you to get up."

"Why?"

"We're leaving."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home." He said as he picked her up, her cry of pain was muted into his chest as she shook in his arms.

As it was the middle of the night there was hardly a person in the halls so slipping out was easy. He'd dodged a few doctors rounding a corner but the gods were on their side.

"Hurry!" Charlie waved him toward the car. Ardeth placed her in the back seat and they sped off to the London Victoria Station.

* * *

Elizabeth, barely conscious held a firm grip on Ardeth's shirt, her eyes opening and closing intermittently. She did not know where she was, only that she was safe while things chaotic and rushed happened around her. She imagined herself running through a field and thoughts were bees buzzing past her, words were the wind in her hair and in the trees. Ardeth's presence was the sun.

Cool breeze, warm thoughts. Her brother's voice with Ardeth's, arguing? No, agreeing?

"I am coming with you whether you like it or not."

"Very well." Ardeth said.

The ground felt liquid, in Ardeth's arm her body felt weightless. The smell of the ocean, a mist that calmed her rising fever.

It was all a blur, with very few moments of clarity. But at any moment of such clarity she found herself within arms reach of Ardeth, a glass of water or broth to her lips for what seemed like several weeks. Time felt short and long.

"Elizabeth?" A voice whispered in her ear. "Elizabeth wake up."

Two hands around her head steadied her vision, her mind and she looked clearly upon Ardeth. A smile graced her face.

"We're almost home, Elizabeth. Just hold on."

Smells of curry, of sweat, of camels, and spiced winds. Egypt in her dreams.

* * *

Elizabeth awoke against Ardeth's chest, a rumble of movement beneath her. A horse or a camel beneath them? Yes, certainly smelled like it. And to her left, her brother. Charlie? On a horse? And was he wearing a tunic?

She sat up slowly and looked at Ardeth.

"Ardeth?" She pressed her hands against his chest. Very real. He smiled at her softly.

"We are almost home, habibata."

Within the hour they had arrived upon a camp. Elizabeth recognized it.

"Ardeth!" A man rushed up and took the reins from both the horses.

Charlie hopped off his horse, and held his arms out to catch Elizabeth, who was delivered to him softly, gingerly—as though she were made of glass.

**_"Ardeth what is wrong, is everything okay with Elizabeth?" _**Abdal cried, gripping his friends robes. Ardeth pushed his hands down but shook his head.

**_"She is very sick, Abdal…She…"_**

Charlie looked between the two men, witnessing an unspoken bond form between grasped hands.

Elizabeth stirred in Charlie's arm and coughed.

"Can you let me down, Charlie?" She whispered. Charlie slowly transitioned to set her upon her feet but the moment she tried to steady her weight she collapsed into Ardeth's arm.

Elizabeth cried out as a pain rippled through her body, but she pushed herself away from Ardeth and steadied her feet. Slowly she began to walk out into the darkness, feet barefooted and sinking into the sand.

Ardeth and Charlie followed behind her for nearly a mile before she paused, her mind gazed out into the astounding resonance of the stars and she let out a soft chuckle. She reached a hand back and Ardeth quickly grabbed her before she fell into his grasp.

Her dead weight sunk into the sand, knees buried as her upper half was held by Ardeth from behind.

"We met right here. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember." He kissed her head and held her close to his chest. "You changed my life, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled and then coughed, "I didn't do much really."

"You were a blessing upon my soul, you could have only been conjured by the great ones—sent to me by Allah." Ardeth whispered into her ear.

Charlie stood nearly ten feet behind, watching with bated breath and welled up tears. Ardeth's words were hushed and spoken into Elizabeth's ear, but Charlie suspected they were meaningful and comforting.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Elizabeth shook, but she knew the answer, "I'm not certain what happens."

Ardeth shushed her and kissed her temple. Tears fell from his eyes but he held in a wretched sob to hold her, to protect her.

"I don't want to lose you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth shifted to look back at him but failed, only falling further into the sand. Her hands grasped his sleeves.

"I once read, that death is merely returning to the Earth. A wave crashes back into the ocean, a tree falls in a forest, sand settles back into the dunes. I am just returning back to the Earth, where I belong." Elizabeth said.

"You belong with me, Elizabeth." He said and she chuckled, "What is it?"

"Remember love and selfishness? I was right, it is selfish. The Earth wants me back but I don't want to go."

Ardeth held her closer, sinking into the sand and holding her from behind.

"The sun will rise soon. Look out to the East just ahead." Ardeth nuzzled his nose into her hair and breathed in her scent. She smelled like jasmine and sickness, sweat and dust.

They laid together for several moments. Charlie moved to sit in the sand, and was at the point of forgoing wiping any tears away.

Elizabeth coughed and her body shivered with pain. Ardeth tried to hold her close, to will the pain away but it was no use. He prayed in his head a thousand times but it seemed all too trivial.

"How strange…it's unlike anything I've ever seen before…" Elizabeth said softly, as the sun peaked up above the sand with pink, peach hued skies. Another shutter wracked through Elizabeth's body but with more violent force. Ardeth tightened his grip around her shoulders but her body continued to twitch and writhe before she became suddenly very still.

A deep, slated breath exited Elizabeth's mouth and her chest did not rise a second time.

Ardeth loosened his grip on her to look at her face and his skin paled. Her eyes were half lidded, mouth slightly open, and lips turning blue. Ardeth held her tighter and closed his eyes. Her hands fell from the sleeves of his robes into the sand and Ardeth let out a belated gasp from deep within.

Charlie let out a sob and buried his head in his hands between his knees. And the two men cried as Elizabeth's body hardened in the warm, warm sand.


	13. Chapter 13

As it was Medjai tradition to bury their dead with the setting of the sun, Elizabeth's body was taken by Tala and the other women of the main tribe to be washed and honored throughout the day until dusk. A notice was sent out via falcon and by mid-afternoon over a hundred Medjai from all across Egypt had come to honor and offer condolences for the fallen doctor.

Charlie would wait along side Ardeth as her tent was filled with praying warriors who had been either saved by Elizabeth in the past or knew her in some capacity by way of Ardeth.

"I understand now why Elizabeth loved this place so much." Charlie said to Ardeth, and continued, despite no response from him, "She belonged here, amongst people who cared for her, and appreciated her. In London all she had was me and dad. Here she…"

"She became important to many people here." Ardeth said softly, eyes on the sand. Charlie nodded and then looked to Ardeth with a narrowed brow. All things considered, Charlie felt Ardeth was handling the death with unbridled courage—hardly an inkling of emotion. He did not know if this was customary of Medjai or if Ardeth was particularly good at compartmentalization, a talent Charlie had never been able to master himself.

Charlie usually felt it easier to cry, but as the hours went on and the reality of his sister's death set in, his mind started to clear. He found himself contemplating how Elizabeth perceived this country and why she was so drawn to it. Other than the community Charlie couldn't understand it, he felt displaced in Egypt, it was hot—_so bloody hot,_ and there were bugs everywhere you looked, that often ended up in your mouth or your eyes if you turned toward the wind.

But Elizabeth always liked a bit of discomfort, someplace where it was hard to settle and relax. He imagined it was the main reason why she insisted upon serving for the entirety of the war. He imagined she felt quite at home in battle, amidst the danger and the unknown. They were night and day, the two siblings, in that way. Charlie was held back from the war for reporting but suspected he wouldn't have gone either way. The trauma alone of holding a gun would have stuck with him for his entire life, much less killing another human being with it.

But Elizabeth didn't kill others. She had saved them.

* * *

The hours went along and Charlie was able to sit with Elizabeth for several moments in the early evening. There were no more tears, no more sobs, just discomfort and pain.

It was an uncomfortable sight. Elizabeth's body was still in the center of the tent, shrouded with a long length of black linen. He could see just underneath the shroud her arms, legs, and torso were wrapped up in black linen as well. It must be some type of tradition, he thought, and for whatever reason felt her dead body was merely just resting beneath those wraps, and would stir awake at any given moment.

Charlie shifted in the sandy floor of the tent and struggled with something to say. Would it even be heard?

"Camilla is pregnant, by the way." Charlie said softly, letting a little laugh escape him. "That's why we're getting married so quickly. I knew you could tell when you looked at her. I could see it in your eyes. I think Camilla will make a wonderful mother, but I'm convinced I'm going to be a terrible father. I was hoping to have you to help, guidance from you always eased my mind." Charlie sighed and looked up at the speckled tent ceiling. "Think the little one would have liked it out here. All the sun and the animals. I certainly loathe it, but I think I understand why you love it—_loved_ it…Lizzy, I don't know what pop and I are going to do without you. It simply must not do, I will see you tomorrow downstairs for breakfast, okay?" Charlie let out a choked sob mixed with a laugh, "I love you, old girl. Say hi to mum for me." He kissed her forehead and left the tent.

Charlie wiped his tears as he nodded to Ardeth, it was his turn. The Medjai whom Charlie had quickly grown to think of him as nothing less than a brother in the past week, walked into the tent with shoulders tensed.

Ardeth was in the tent for several minutes, hardly a sound could be heard except for the gushing winds from the South. When he exited the tent a group of Medjai walked in and quickly out with Elizabeth on a stiff bed made of bamboo and palm leaves propped on their shoulders.

"She will receive a warrior's burial." A voice next to Charlie spoke as they starting walking. Charlie looked to his side and saw a man of similar height to Ardeth, but shorter hair and no beard. "I'm Abdal. Your sister saved my life." He shook Charlie's hand.

"Yes, I know. Elizabeth told me about you."

"It is a pleasure to meet Elizabeth's kin, you share the same shoulders." Abdal chuckled.

"Not sure that's a compliment."

"Elizabeth carried an immense weight on her shoulders. Strong shoulders, you should be complimented." He said, very matter-of-fact.

Charlie's lips lilted in a soft smirk, he was right.

"So what exactly goes into a warrior's burial, then?" Charlie asked.

"Well, the body is bathed and cared for, wrapped in black linens and adorned with gifts for the afterlife."

"Like the Ancient Egyptians?"

Abdal gave him a small shrug, "Not exactly. These are gifts to be used in the afterlife; weapons, food, memories—things that are useful but they can also be meaningful. Once the body is laid to rest in the grave a loved one will drape another shroud of linen over the body with the prayer of the Medjai. Then each of us will contribute to filling with three handfuls of sand into the grave which she will now rest."

Charlie was thoughtful for several moments, taking it all in.

"I will say it is a lot better than our way of doing it, though not that different in the end." He said.

The troupe reached the grave and Charlie recognized it as the spot which Elizabeth had died. Ardeth must have insisted.

Elizabeth's body was lowered deep down beneath the Earth and a silence filled the air. Abdal dug into his satchel and pulled out a piece of bloodied gauze and a bundle of palm leaves. He spoke in Arabic before he carefully dropped it into the grave. A few others dropped sheathed swords and daggers, one dropped a rifle. Then eyes were on Charlie.

He had nothing prepared but his hands immediately unclasped his watch. He smiled to himself, _something useful. _

Charlie dropped the watch into the murky darkness of her grave. He turned to Ardeth who held a single bright red pomegranate in one hand and a clump of linen in the other.

Ardeth rested the fruit in between her hands, which were crossed over her chest. He looked at Charlie.

"Will you assist me, Charlie?"

"Am I allowed to?" He whispered.

"Elizabeth would have wanted it." Ardeth said softly and handed Charlie one end. Together they stretched the fabric over the grave and let it slowly drop and drape over her body and all the offerings.

Abdal started praying in Arabic loudly and Charlie knelt in front of her grave, thinking to himself the first prayer he'd made in nearly twenty years.

"Rest well, old girl." He said, and offered his handfuls of sand into the grave.

Charlie watched Ardeth fill her grave last with three handfuls of sand. His eyes were trained on the grave as he stood and paused for several moments above it. Then he turned and walked off, in the opposite direction of camp.

"How long will you be staying with us, Charlie?" Abdal asked.

"I'm not certain I have the courage to return to England right now." Charlie walked with Abdal, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"You may stay with us as long as you need, family of Elizabeth will always be welcomed amongst the Medjai." Abdal rested a hand on his shoulder and pressed his palm to Charlie's cheek. "You must be the bringer of bad news, may Allah be with you."

Charlie sucked in a breath and felt calm under Abdal's touch. Normally he would be quite discomforted by such an intimate touch from a near stranger, but he could see in the man's eyes that he was kind and genuine.

"I can take you to stay at your sister's clinic in Cairo, if you wish." Abdal said, and Charlie nodded, "I will extend offer to Ardeth, but I am doubtful he will return before you leave."

"Where will he go?" Charlie asked, glancing back at Ardeth's disappearing figure.

Abdal shrugged, "As Elizabeth used to say; 'your guess is as good, nay—better than mine.'" He smiled but it quickly turned to a sad smirk and looked out into the sunset. "We all deal with death in our own way."

Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and felt his heart palpitate. He did not remember their mother's death being as gut wrenching and heart breaking as this. He was so young when their mother died, and he had Elizabeth and the siblings helped each other through get through it.

Ardeth rested that evening after burying Elizabeth deep in the ground. His mind was empty and his heart had hardened.

The wind whistled outside, and brought with them an exhaustion Ardeth had never felt before. An exhaustion quite like death, where it seemed inescapable. Slowly his eyes closed and his body stilled.

A vision, Elizabeth in the ground—her body convulsing in the sand—choking to death again. She reached for his hand but when he tried to take hold, she slipped further into the Earth from him grasp.

Ardeth's eyes shot open with a pained cry, "Elizabeth!" His breath hinged on convulse. After he had settled, the Medjai pushed himself upward and out of his tent.

He walked Eastward, feet barefoot like Elizabeth, heading for the stars which transfixed him so. Better to be awake and feel his sorrow, than to fall asleep and experience inescapable horror.

* * *

Below Ardeth's feet the Earth rattled. Such a small rattle could hardly be felt by the humans upon the Earth's surface. But if you were lying low, eyes parallel to the surface of the sand, one would see the sand shift, flutter, for just a moment. And an eerie, hollowing wind would follow.

* * *

_**I apologize for the brevity but I hope you enjoy all the same, as much as it pained me to write it. Stay tuned... **_


	14. Chapter 14

_**My goodness I hope I haven't ruffled any heathers with those last two chapters. Though, this one might make up for those.** _

* * *

It was dark. Pitch black. Elizabeth's body was frozen still and she could see nothing. Feel nothing—except suddenly after a brief moment of consciousness an immense weight pressed into her chest. It was painful and heavy, but not internal like she had come to know. No, external, as though something was sitting on her chest.

Elizabeth struggled to breathe and was still faced with darkness in her paralysis. Her hands started to regain feeling and then her feet, and she felt sand beneath her. It was unforgettable, and inimitable—sand. The coarse and infinite nature of it. She felt a fabric around her arms and legs, chest and hips that was tight but soft, almost comforting like being wrapped up in a blanket.

Tingles and needles of feeling started to come back to Elizabeth's body and finally in her face—where she felt the wind on her cheeks. Slowly she opened her eyes to near blinding light. How long had they been closed?

The weight was still pressing on her chest as her eyes slowly adjusted to a bright blue, or rather purple sky. Purple? The sun was low in the sky and not a single cloud in sight.

Suddenly the weight shifted and Elizabeth struggled to look down at her chest. When she saw what was weighing her down she nearly let out a laugh. A small cat, elegant with shiny black fur and eyes green like lime, pupils like slivers of broken glass.

It purred and kneaded its paws into her chest. Elizabeth let out a pained grunt and felt a new pressure with each paw. The weight of this tiny animal was visceral and holding her down to the ground. Again it purred and leaned up to look into Elizabeth's face. After several moments of strange eye contact with the animal it sat back on its haunches and started to lick it paw.

Elizabeth watched in mild amusement. Would she be stuck beneath this creature for the end of time? After the cat took its time cleaning off its face it looked out to the West and took a leap off her chest.

Elizabeth let out a grasp of air as though she had just broken the surface of water. She coughed out and felt her lungs expand and contact with zero pain. She breathed in air full for the first time in months. It was incredible.

After several moments the cat meowed and looked at her. Elizabeth, worried it may try to jump back onto her chest, stood up on shaky legs. She was bare foot and her toes sunk into the ground.

It was at this point Elizabeth became aware that her limbs and body were wrapped up with loose black linen, it draped over her body and legs in a way that was not unlike how a Medjai wore their linens. But this seemed more… oh, she didn't know.

Her mind was still foggy and her skin still tingled. The strange bits of fabric on her body seemed unimportant and trivial.

The cat meowed again and started walking. Out of instinct Elizabeth followed the dark feline.

The desert was vast and barren. More open than any desert she'd ever seen, not a tree or a mountain in sight. Something about this place seemed off, seemed…different. Was she still in the Sahara?

The cat meowed again and twisted itself between her legs, nudging her ahead.

"Am I not going quick enough for you?" Elizabeth laughed and continued to follow the cat. She walked for miles and miles, her feet never got tired and she never even broke a sweat.

After a very long while of walking a small speck of something appeared in the distance. The cat must be guiding her there.

Once they were closer Elizabeth recognized the singular, grand building as largely Egyptian in architecture but more colorful and almost brand new—unnaturally new. The cat led her through a canopied entrance, the building itself looked to be a long maze of hallways and staircases, with magnificent arches and pillars.

The cat picked up speed and then rushed down a hall and around a corner. Elizabeth jumped to keep up but immediately lost the little feline.

"Oh bullocks, where did that thing go…What now?" She muttered to herself. The place looked and felt deserted. A few potted plants here and there but no other sign of life.

A quiet hum was suddenly picked up by the wind and Elizabeth followed it. Other life perhaps? She walked through hallway upon hallway before she ended up on the top floor. She continued to follow the sound which led her out onto a balcony that seemed to wrap around the entire magnificent building and was wide open to the vast expanse of the desert visage.

Elizabeth walked around and spotted the cat again. She followed it around the corner and watched it jump up onto the edge of the balcony. A hand stuck out from around a pillar and gave its ear a soft scratch.

"Have you brought what I asked for?" A voice spoke, and the cat meowed—as though replying. "Good."

Elizabeth took a few steps forward and a person stepped out from behind the pillar. It was a man, at least had the features of a man, with dark skin, short cropped hair, donning a drapery of white and cream linens.

"Hello." He spoke, tone steady and calm.

Elizabeth felt a bit taken aback but responded nonetheless, "Hello, I'm Eliza—"

"Oh I know who you are, I've been expecting you." He interrupted her, though with a cadence of politeness.

"You have been?"

"Yes, I thought you'd be here sooner, you must not have died quickly." He said in a tone mostly to himself.

"Died…quickly?" The man narrowed his eyes at her and Elizabeth took a hesitant step back. "Am I…"

"Dead? Yes." He said bluntly.

Elizabeth felt cold suddenly and looked around, "If I am dead, why does this seem so real?"

"Because it is." The man said, tone slowly growing less steady, "You are dead but, eh—not so dead either."

Elizabeth looked at her feet, the cat which circled her legs in a figure eight.

"Cats are the guardians of the underworld…" Elizabeth said softly, recalling what Ardeth had taught her one afternoon about Ancient Egyptian beliefs.

"Yes. This is your guardian while you are, to make sure you stay here."

"Who are you? Where is here?" Elizabeth questioned and the man shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again.

"I am Heka. And you are in a place of my own creation. A middle place."

"A middle place?" Elizabeth thought aloud, "Heka…Aren't you a god?"

He nodded, "To some I am a god. As are you to some."

Elizabeth shook her head, "I am no god." She laughed nervously.

"You save lives, do you not?"

"Yes, but—"

"And have you not been serving the ancient order of the Medjai leading up to your untimely death?"

"Yes, I have but I am dead, gods do not die—"

"You do not think you deserve to live?"

Elizabeth was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Everyone dies," she sighed and ran her hands through her hair. This was absurd. A dream perhaps? A death dream?

"All _mortals_ die." The man, Heka, corrected her. Then he turned to look out into the sun. "Your reputation precedes you, Doctor Eliza-bet."

"What reputation of mine could have possibly transcended to this place? Whatever this place really is, if it evens exists…"

"You are just, and you are a healer—a good one."

"In my world we just call people like me doctors."

"But you do not just doctor wounds, do you?" Elizabeth paused, uncertain as to what to say to that, "You saved the hand of a starving boy and took no payment in return. Additionally you then gave the grandmother of the family a job. You saved the life of an ancient warrior while you too were tired and hungry and scared. You fought in a war you did not believe in only to save the lives of others."

"It is my job."

"It is more than that though, isn't it?" Heka challenged.

"I don't know what you are suggesting, if you could please be a bit more vague and mysterious that would be much appreciated." The second Elizabeth stopped talking her hand clamped over her mouth, "I apologize, I don't know what came over me."

Heka then let out a gushing laugh, "It is alright, most dead people experience moments of impatience."

"I really am dead, aren't I?"

"Well, nearly dead actually. Dead to the Earth which you knew, buried in the ground and your body is decaying as we speak. Your beloved still prays for you everyday and every moment he can."

Ardeth? Elizabeth was becoming more confused. She couldn't understand any of this and was quickly becoming more frustrated.

"I don't understand." She said softly and moved to sit on the ground. "I know that I had something inside of me, something that devoured me from within."

"Yes, a curse that killed you."

"Imhotep…" Elizabeth realized quietly. Heka bent down at the hips and looked into her eyes.

"The Priest cursed you and you succumbed to it. Clever little spell actually, he must have been very afraid of you—to use what little influence he still had in the afterlife just for you." He said, still looking into her eyes.

"If I am dead—or if my body is dead—then why do I still feel alive? Why am I here and not in some hellish underworld?"

"Because I will not allow it." Heka bent back up and rested his arms thoughtfully behind his back.

"What?"

"You do say that a lot, don't you?" Heka observed, but in a manner of annoyance. But he continued, bending down to her level again. Elizabeth looked into his eyes and saw they were the same purple as the sky, and shimmered in the light of the sun, "You are too important to your world for me to let you pass over."

"Important?"

"You will do great things, Eliza-bet of Cairo. I am not interested in allowing something like a volatile, childish priest control any aspect of that, or you for that matter." Heka said.

"So _you_ will not let me die?"

"Why do you keep asking things like this, do you want to die?"

"No, I just…I thought that was Anubis' job?"

Heka scoffed and straightened, "_Anubis_… maybe you are not as important as I originally thought."

"No, no!" Elizabeth jumped up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, I promise."

"Relax, Eliza-bet." Heka raised his hands and placed them on either side of Elizabeth's head, his thumbs grazing her templed, a heat emanating from the movement. "I would like to show you a few things, if you do not mind…"

Elizabeth could only nod, thought she felt the movement was so slight she hardly registered it herself. Heka breathed out and closed his eyes.

Suddenly Elizabeth was in Cambridge, England—just outside of her old college. Dark reds and brown tweeds, wood and brick—the pure antithesis of Egyptian architecture. She looked around and saw students rushing inside out from the rain, just in time for classes.

"Do you know what day this is?" Elizabeth heard the ethereal voice of Heka beside her.

"It's my last day of class before I received my medical license," she recognized.

"Do you remember what happened that day?"

How could Elizabeth forget? "It was the day the war was announced."

Heka hummed, "And before that?"

Elizabeth looked at him confused.

"Come on," Heka led her into the building where she saw herself, younger with shorter hair and tweed skirt suit and stockings. She was right proper back then.

Elizabeth's younger self was running down the hall, notebooks clutched in her arms. Elizabeth nearly laughed realizing she must have been late that day.

Elizabeth and Heka walked into the classroom but now it seemed like the class was nearly over. The professor was speaking of medical ethics and the laws of integrity a doctor must keep.

"What if we have a patient who cannot offer payment for healthcare?" Bruno Kensington, oh yes, she remembered this man.

"What then, Bruno does your intuition tell you?" The professor prompted.

Bruno shrugged, "Deny them care."

Young Elizabeth audibly gasped.

"What would you do Doctor Bender-Whitmore?" The professor questioned.

Young Elizabeth looked straight at Bruno and spoke, "I would treat them to the best of my ability, forbid I even ask for payment before the patient's injury or ailment has even been looked at."

The professor left a pregnant pause before speaking again, "One of you is the practical doctor, and the other is the ethical doctor. I will let you decide which one you will become."

The class was dismissed. Elizabeth and Heka followed her younger self as she stomped out the door.

It was now pouring down rain but that didn't seem to bother the young doctor.

"Bruno!" Young Elizabeth yelled at the man who was flanked by two others from their class. As she stomped up to them she was nearly a foot shorter than each.

"What do you want, Doctor Pipsqueak?" Bruno scoffed, his buddies laughed next to him. But before he had a second to belch out another snide remark, the young Elizabeth clocked him straight in the jaw with her fist.

Bruno yelped and fell to the wet grass. Elizabeth calmly pulled out a linen wrapped bundled of ice. She knelt and placed it on his face.

"That will be sore and probably bruise. Ice it on twenty minutes, off fifteen until the swelling goes down." Then she stood, leaving Bruno and the others quite flabbergast.

"Now do you remember?" Heka questioned Elizabeth.

"That I punched an ignorant man when he disagreed with me? Yes, but I don't understand why you are showing me this."

"Do you not see?" Heka said, exasperated.

Then they were in her father's house in London. Five year old Elizabeth in pigtail plaits ran passed the two, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Momma! Charlie stole a cookie from the bowl for the children's orphanage!"

Seven year old Charlie ran after her, crumbs on his collar.

"I did not! Lizzy's lying!"

"I would never lie!" The little Elizabeth gasped.

"You've always been good," Heka said to Elizabeth, "Goodness comes so naturally to you, you are offended by anything otherwise. It was only natural you ended up where you are."

"Where? Dead?"

"No. Here." Heka gestured out and Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as she saw the tent. She remembered it so well. Rickety, thin, and lopsided—where inside she knew was a dying Abdal.

Ardeth passed by them, determined, into the tent. Inside Elizabeth saw his back clinch up, in dead stillness.

"This is when I first met Ardeth." Elizabeth said to herself.

"He fell in love with you the moment he saw you."

Elizabeth scoffed this time, "How do you know that?"

Heka turned to look at her pointedly, as though he was again too tired for an explanation and her haughty ignorance.

"He'd never seen such varied and like-minded eyes in another before. He knew immediately."

"Knew what?"

"You were his other half."

Elizabeth considered this for several moments, "That's why he trusted me to operate on Abdal…"

"In hindsight he should not have gone on intuition alone, but…you seem to have that effect on people."

"Not you though?" Elizabeth smirked to herself.

"No, certainly not." Heka cleared his throat and straightened. They were suddenly back where they began, in the grand palace in the middle of the desert.

"You see now why I cannot let you die?"

Elizabeth looked out at the sun, wondering if it was perpetually dusk here.

"Yes, I think I understand." Her voice was weaker than she intended. She wasn't positive if she believed in it.

"You have an important responsibility, Eliza-bet. I cannot regret saving your soul."

"I have no other reason but to continue."

"I am giving you a very special gift, you must not take this lightly."

Elizabeth fell silent, her mind quiet. She looked out into the desert for several moments.

"Do you not accept?" Heka spoke from behind.

"Do I have a choice?" Elizabeth looked at her hands, wrapped in black linen to her knuckles. Her skin was pale, almost…translucent.

"No." Heka said. Suddenly the cat meowed. Her guardian…meowed. Heka scoffed, "Alright fine. Yes, you have a choice."

Elizabeth turned to Heka and the cat which sat at his feet. "How…how long do I have?"

Heka looked at the cat, which looked back up at him. He sighed, "You can take all the time you need."

"Can I just stay here? Do I have to choose?"

"What? no, I live here. I don't want to live here with you." He sighed, "You must make a decision but…you have time. If it is such a decision to receive the gift of life—who am I to judge?"

Elizabeth sighed and her eyes closed, "Thank you."

"Make it hasty though." The cat meowed again, "Alright, I'll tell her."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, "What is it?"

"You may have access to your memories, to aid your decision."

"My…memories?"

"Yes."

"This is absurd." Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you are struggling to make a decision, you may think back to any time you wish and relive it—at least from an outside perspective."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, "And how do I do that?"

Heka shrugged, yawning, "You just think about it, and you will be there. Now if you'll excuse me I must rest."

"Mmhmm…" Elizabeth turned back toward the sunset and felt her mind drift. And where did it land, but to the first moment which she had met Ardeth…

* * *

_**My god, I've been wanting to write this chapter for ages and I'm so happy to be at a point where you all can read it too. A turning point in our story, my lovely readers. I cherish your reviews more than you know, I smile like a damn idiot when I get a review at work and makes life so very tolerable. Be safe everyone. **_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Hello all! Thank you so much for the reviews for the previous chapter. Sorry this one was a bit late, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. I've been writing with vapid passion and I think it shows. Perhaps I am going a tad crazy, but I'm not sure, could you let me know? Enjoy!**_

* * *

Heka and the black cat would watch Elizabeth from the top balcony of the palace everyday. And everyday she would walk out into the sand, sit, and watch the sky for hours. Heka could not know what she was thinking, what memories she was reliving in her head when she did this. He only knew that in the few times he had granted life to a mortal there had been no hesitation, no wait.

Except for Elizabeth.

* * *

Elizabeth stood in the corner of the tent watching herself and Archie address the damage to Abdal's stomach. And each time, when Ardeth would enter the tent she grew confused.

Ardeth would walk in and pause midway into the tent, observing her—younger by one year Elizabeth— before he said a word. The look on his face was unreadable at first, but after reliving the memory now everyday for weeks, she began to work it out.

It was as though something hit him, his blood flooded his face and his cheeks blossomed in pink beneath the tattoos. His eyes seemed to grow and he stood very still. Then he switched back to reality.

**_"What is this?" _**He would ask and Elizabeth's head would pop up. She was unconcerned by her own reaction, only curious to Ardeth who it seemed to grow more tense yet more comfortable the longer he watched her work.

And then the memory would end. Ardeth was a secretive human, he always had been. But when Elizabeth wasn't looking, everything could be read on his face. It was the way he looked at her when she first left Egypt, when he had almost kissed her in the tent, when she returned to him. That look was something she had never experienced before. A look of pure adoration.

Elizabeth knew from reliving this memory she was a love sick puppy from the beginning. The way her eyes dilated, her hands shook upon seeing him for the first time—she hid it well. But not too well.

"Are you about finished?" Elizabeth heard Heka walking up behind her, the cat at his feet.

"For today, almost." Elizabeth assured him.

Heka sighed and shifted his lanky body down next to her in the sand.

"Can I be of any assistance?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him in mild confusion. "How could you help?"

Heka shrugged and scratched the cat's head, who purred into his palm.

"There are so many elements to being human, perhaps I can collect a perspective for you."

Elizabeth, eyes still narrowed, looked out into the desert.

"What would you know about being human?"

"I've met many of them, certainly." Heka said and Elizabeth rolled her eyes to herself, "And they all had one thing in common."

"Which is?"

"Love. Human love—such a funny thing." Heka stated simply.

Elizabeth looked at her feet, buried in the sand. "It is funny isn't it?"

Heka looked at Elizabeth with his own narrowed eyes, looking into her soul—or what it seemed like to her. She could practically feel his gaze intrude into her thoughts.

"It seemed, for many, that love was the meaning of life. It is why they all went back. Do you believe this, Doctor Eliza-bet?" Heka asked. And she thought about it for several moments, tearing her eyes from him and looking out into the perpetual sunset. "That is what I thought."

"Am I a monster for believing so?"

"No."

"It feels like it."

"Are you a monster, then, for falling in love?" Heka questioned but did not wait for a response, "Consider this. Your purpose is to care for others. To heal them, and some would say in many cases…to love them, to provide love in ways that which only a doctor can provide. To save others is to love them, no?"

Elizabeth looked at her feet again and nodded, "You make a lot of sense."

"So then, if I may interpret your struggle—you feel that your beloved does not feel this way towards others? And by extension, you?"

Elizabeth felt softly cornered, she knew he was right just as the words were uttered from his mouth.

"This is where you are incorrect, but you cannot see."

"Is this the perspective you were talking about?" She asked.

"Yes, hush." Elizabeth smirked but listened to him, "Humans are made to love. Doctors are made to care for others, warriors are meant to save others—to love, others. Humans have it all turned around, romantic love is merely subjective and never meant to be_ the_ purpose. Love of others is the point."

"And then romantic love is what? Sin?"

Heka let out a deep chuckle, "Surely for those that believe it, of course. If you feel love, you love. If you feel hate, you hate. It is very simple even you could understand that."

"Yes I believe I understand, thank you." Elizabeth said dryly and stood.

"So you've made your decision?" Heka asked, and Elizabeth could nearly detect a hopefulness in his tone. Nearly.

"Maybe tomorrow," Elizabeth responded and heard Heka's thin sigh as she walked back into the palace.

* * *

The next day, or was it the next month? Elizabeth stood in the sand, looking out into the rolling tendrils of the dunes and sighed. A deep, embedded pressure tensed in her chest.

"I've made my decision." She said out into the air. Hardly another second passed when Heka and the black cat appeared behind her.

"Finally. What have you chosen?"

Elizabeth turned, fingering the linen sleeves and sighed melancholic and solitary blue.

"I don't mean to disappoint you, nor waste your time. But I've decided I must decline your gift of life." Elizabeth spoke rehearsed and carefully.

"I beg your pardon?"

Elizabeth sucked in a breath, "I've thought about it, for a long while and I can't go back. It is selfish to those who have mourned me; to those who have loved me. I've offered my time, and I have accepted my fate. I thank you for the opportunity but I think I'm ready. I'm ready to be finished."

Heka stood in front of Elizabeth silently while the cat croaked a meow at her feet. She looked down at the cat, its eyes green like palm leaves and what used to be slivers of black were now big orbs, eclipsed suns in the iris of its mind. It chirped again and Elizabeth felt her body grow numb. Soft tingles and pricks of tiny pains sprinkled her body and the pressure in her chest deepened again.

The cat jumped up and its weight pushed her to the ground. The sun's light exploded in blinding white and Elizabeth felt her body sink into the sand under the pressure.

Then black. Pure black and nothingness.

* * *

Elizabeth shook to consciousness. Her body shifted minuscule amounts under an incredible pressure. She opened her mouth but it was quickly filled with a substance that fell down her throat. All she could see was black but at least she could move. She tried to breathe again but her nose was filled with the same substance that permeated her throat.

Was this death?

Elizabeth moved, she felt not frozen, not standing, not laying—suspended. She kept moving, kept shifting—uncertain if she was even mobile at all.

Then there were muffled sounds, pressures from above and she willed her limbs to move toward it hands first. Her lungs filled with the substance which surrounded her yet she pushed further.

One hand exited the surface first and she felt something pull her up. Up. The air around her hand was warm, then her arm, then her face.

She coughed out and breathed in air, the sand spilling out from her lungs. Her eyes opened to blinding light. A voice, hands, yelling, pushing, shaking. Elizabeth coughed out and her eyes slowly adjusted.

Elizabeth saw a man, a younger man with tattoos on his face and robes like her black linens. He was speaking rushed words at her, his arms shaking her and hugging her shoulders.

He repeated over and over again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth's eyes widened as the realization hit.

"Abdal?" She questioned, breath in her voice still.

"Yes, it is me, are you okay?"

Elizabeth pushed herself weakly from his hands and shuffled in the sand. She looked around and spotted the ruins of Hamunaptra and the sun high in the sky.

"What…" She shifted back to Abdal and touched his chest. "Oh my god."

"Elizabeth, I just pulled you from the sand, what is going on?"

Elizabeth sucked in a breath, a free and unobstructed breath of air.

"No…" she muttered to herself. "It can't be."

"I don't understand." Abdal grabbed her shoulders and twisted her back to him. He rested is hand on her cheek, "How are you alive, my friend?"

Elizabeth felt weak and the pressure return to her chest, only this time it was anxiety and she knew.

Heka had not respected her wishes. Heka had brought her back to life.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Thank you all so dearly for reviewing and favoriting my story. Today, we continue with hardship so that tomorrow we may move on. This one is for my anonymous reviewer who brought me tremendous joy. Thank you, Bianca. **_

* * *

Abdal had instructed Elizabeth to wait in Hamunaptra until nightfall, so he may smuggle her into camp unnoticed. While she waited, Elizabeth kept herself busy with agonizing and torturous thought, snuggled in the sand at the base of the statue of Anubis. The wind was soft and warm—she had missed that.

In all her thoughts Elizabeth could not come to a concise nor rehearsed explanation to what had happened to her, all she could think about was Ardeth and what she would say to him. How long had see been gone? How long had he been without her? A day, a week, a month? Had it…had it even happened?

Elizabeth heard her name whispered from around the corner, just as the sun set, pulling her from her thoughts. She stood when her friend returned and gestured for her to follow.

"Ardeth is not here." Abdal said once she was safely in tent. "But he will return by morning…"

Could she be gone by then? Must she face him after all this? Must she contend with the pain she had undoubtedly caused?

Abdal shoved a rough ceramic cup in her hands and she looked down at it. Suddenly Elizabeth's mind went blank, a lost connection as she held the cup with awkward fingers. What was she to do with this?

"You drink it—it's water." Abdal said. _Water_…Elizabeth took a hesitant sip. Did she remember water?

"Did you forget how to drink?" Abdal laughed, sitting himself in front of her on the ground.

"No, I don't think so—It's just, it feels like I've never done it before. I know what to do, it just doesn't feel natural." Elizabeth said, nearly laughing at herself.

"Do you know what happened?" A dal asked bluntly.

"I…I don't remember much, I thought I was gone—-forever." Elizabeth took another sip.

"So did we. We buried you over a year ago, my friend."

Elizabeth sputtered the water, and cried, "A year?"

Abdal only nodded. Her head fell and she sighed. An entire year? It certainly did not feel that long….When Elizabeth looked back up Abdal was watching her with curious and wide eyes.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing, it is just when people come back from the dead they tend not to look like they have just been buried." Abdal admitted. Elizabeth looked at her hands and the linen that covered up to the knuckle.

"Seen a lot of reanimated mummies in your time?" Abdal let out a chuckle.

"No, this is just what I've heard. You are lucky we did not mummify you." He joked and Elizabeth laughed, even knowing that probably would not have mattered in the slightest.

"How is he, Abdal?" She asked finally and this is when her friend sighed mournfully.

"Ardeth has not been the same, Elizabeth. He is cold and quiet."

"He has always been that way though."

"Yes, but this is different, it is as though his insides are hardened, solid like a statue. I cried for you my friend—I never saw him cry."

Elizabeth processed the information, and knew this was why she did not what to return. She knew her heart would break. Did he simply not care that she died?

Abdal continued, "I understand everyone deals with loss differently but it just seemed very unlike the Ardeth I know."

"Perhaps he simply did not care after all." Abdal fell silent at her words, and Elizabeth knew he could not tell her she was wrong because he himself did not know.

"What will you do now, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth sighed, "Perhaps I should leave before Ardeth returns."

"Where will you go?"

"Home first, maybe. I'm not really certain…"

Abdal hummed in affirmation, "Your brother will be very happy you are alive. He was very troubled when you died."

Elizabeth gave her head a tilt in confusion, "You met my brother?"

"Yes, he came with Ardeth from England."

"From England?"

"Do you not remember?"

"I…" Elizabeth paused, "I really don't remember a lot. I know I was in the hospital and Ardeth was there, but I do not remember anything after that." She nearly felt embarrassed at the gaps in her memory—what she had done or said in the time she did not remember, she could not defend nor regret.

"Hmm…" Abdal hummed, "perhaps it is better you do not remember."

"Was it truly that bad?"

"Yes." He said simply, "But I am thankful it is behind us. Thankful to have my friend back."

Elizabeth smiled softly and reached for his hand, offering a gentle squeeze.

"Although you were dead I did sing you a very nice prayer, you would have loved it."

Elizabeth laughed, "Oh I am certain I would have."

Suddenly there was a rumble of horse hooves out and few scattered voices. Elizabeth immediately tensed and looked at Abdal. They both stood quickly, and Elizabeth faltered slightly—her vision grew fuzzy. Abdal helped her sit back down.

"Ardeth is back." He said softly, then continued in panic, "I cannot hide you from him, it is not right Elizabeth. I cannot hold a secret to save my life."

"I know, it is okay." She assured him, "I just don't know what I'm going to say to him."

"You don't have to say anything, but he has to know you are alive." Elizabeth nodded, "I will bring him in shortly. Do you need anything while I am out?"

"Courage, if you have any to space. And maybe an apple, anything to eat." Abdal grabbed her hand and squeezed.

"Food we have, courage we are in limited supply since you left us." Abdal left silently and Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying her best not to panic. Luckily her mind calm nearly suddenly, a skill she never seemed to have before.

It was several minutes before Elizabeth heard voices just outside the tent, quiet Arabic.

**_"What is it, Abdal? I am very tired."_** Ardeth's voice spoke and Elizabeth clinched her shaking fingers.

**_"Just go in first. I promise I had nothing to do with this."_** Abdal said and Elizabeth nearly rolled her eyes, tossing the blame.

Ardeth sighed, **_"This is ridiculous, Abdal." _**His arm reached in and swiped open the flap fo the tent. He dipped his head in and Abdal walked in behind him; an arm full of apples, apricots, and water.

Ardeth looked around the tent before his eyes fell on Elizabeth who sat on the ground. So small he nearly passed over her entirely.

He remained silent, still like a lion. Abdal rushed around Ardeth and helped Elizabeth stand slowly.

"I found her, in the sand—in Hamunaptra, Ardeth." Abdal explained anxiously.

"No," was his first word to her, "Elizabeth is dead."

Elizabeth felt her new life, her newly ignited light—dim.

"No, my friend, she is here. Alive." Abdal pushed Elizabeth forward, but Ardeth did not budge. His eyes cold, dark, and shallow.

"I don't understand it, Ardeth." Elizabeth said softly, hesitance in her pauses.

"I brought apples and apricots—water—do you remember how to eat?" Abdal fussed and Elizabeth nodded.

"I can figure it out, I think."

"Ok," Abdal nodded, keeping his gaze from the pensive chieftain. He spoke directly to her, "I will be um, right outside, okay?"

Elizabeth nodded and Abdal all but bolted from the tent like a bullet from a gun.

Then they were alone.

"Will you say nothing?" Elizabeth asked softly, the wind howled something fierce outside the tent—precipitating her worry.

Ardeth only looked at the ground, at her bare feet with sunk into the sand, the little particles framing and growing through her toes like roots of a flower.

"Elizabeth is dead." Ardeth repeated.

Elizabeth had not expected a warm welcome, but certainly did not expect one so cold either. His tone was strong, with little emotion and eye contact. She became hyper aware of the linen that was wrapped around her body—wondering if Ardeth had been the one to wrap her corpse. It was suffocating.

"I'm not—I'm not dead, Ardeth." Elizabeth insisted, choking out the words as best she could without crying, "I don't know how or even why…but I am here."

"You are not. Elizabeth died a year ago. Elizabeth died in my arms and I buried her." Ardeth repeated, still refusing to make eye contact. She took a small step forward.

"I am sorry I put you through that, Ardeth…" Ardeth's eyes flashed to hers and away just as quickly. Elizabeth felt the heartache that she did not want to cause swell in her chest like a balloon, sinking her deeper into the sand. "I did not expect a warm welcome but, Ardeth…can you not look at me?"

Elizabeth took another step toward him and the wind brought his scent to her nose and she felt weak. How could she have forgotten?

"I was given a choice and that choice was not respected. So I am here, I—"

"What do you mean, choice?"

"I thought it was a test, something everyone went through, to accept their fate but then I woke in the sand and dug myself out…"

"Your choice was not life?" Ardeth questioned. Was that last word strained? A quiet break in his voice?

"I…" Elizabeth started but didn't know how to answer, her choice now seemed confused, "It was not as though I had much of a life to return to…" She admitted. Ardeth's eyes shot up to hers, so continued under the pressure of his brown orb-like eyes, "It would feel selfish of me to return to a family who had mourned me and moved on."

"That _is_ selfish of you." Ardeth said, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Your loss destroyed m—" He took a paused himself, restraint in his tense shoulders, "Your family and the lives in Cairo would have greatly benefitted from your return, certainly you must have considered this?"

"But not for you, isn't that right?" Elizabeth said softly, and Ardeth said nothing. Why could he not admit it? What had changed so drastically where he didn't seem at all happy to see her alive? What had she done?

"I know we disagree on many things, Ardeth. And I know I was probably the last thing you want to happen to you—an inconvenience—"

"Elizabeth—"

"So I will grant you freedom from what you cannot seem to say."

"Which is?"

"Obligation to me." Again Ardeth was silent, Elizabeth turned to packed up the food in a spare bag she found of Abdal's. Ardeth watched her with a careful and soft eye. When she stood back up Elizabeth swallowed her pride and looked him in the eye. "I am sorry, Ardeth—for whatever I did to betray your trust or undermine my love for you."

Elizabeth pushed passed him and out of the tent.

"Elizabeth is everything alright?" Abdal questioned and Elizabeth pulled him by the sleeve to the horses.

"Take me into Cairo, Abdal—I want to go home."


	17. Chapter 17

_**Apologies it's been a long while, how are you all doing? Well I truly hope, and I hope as well that this serves as gift enough for my absence. This picks up right where we left off in the last chapter.**_

* * *

Ardeth caught Elizabeth's arm mid-stride outside of the tent and pulled her back inside. When she tried to pull away Ardeth held her with both hands, looking into her eyes. His grip, while strong, was something she had seemingly forgotten. It was all at once threatening and loving, careful. He continued to look into her eyes, searching for something.

"You died in my arms, Elizabeth—I cannot just forget that."

"I'm not asking you to do so."

"...You will leave?" Ardeth asked softly, realizing. Elizabeth nodded and stepped from his grasp.

"Will you stop me?" Elizabeth asked, and after several long moments of silence she had her answer. The look on his face told her a story of hesitation and pain, confusion—but his inaction spoke words he didn't have to. Why could he not say anything?

Elizabeth backed out from the tent and nodded to Abdal who followed her to the horses.

* * *

Ernest Whitmore sat quietly in his study, eyes glued to the morning paper. With nothing to distract his mind, any and all words lately could enthrall him for hours. Anything at all, these days it seemed, to distract him from his own thoughts was good enough.

Only when Camilla walked through the doorway with a cup of tea did he look up and watch her cross the room like a silent cat. She sat down with a book in the far corner next to an open window. She glanced at Ernest, her father-in-law, and smiled a soft, tired early morning grin.

Ernest gave her a gentle tight lip in response and returned to his words. It was not more than thirty seconds later when Charlie bustled through the doorway holding two cups of tea and basket of biscuits in his arms.

"Morning, pop—"

Ernest watched as Charlie stumbled—over his own two feet—and dropped the tea cups and the biscuits in one fell swoop. Ernest could not help but chuckle to himself.

"Oh gods sake." Charlie mumbled to himself and rushed to clean up the spilt tea with the edge of his shirt while Camilla jumped to grab Elsa.

Amid the chaos Ernest returned to his words. An article concerning a tree removal proposal in the park just down the road from his townhouse caught his attention. Ernest looked at the image printed next to the text and his smile faded.

Every few days a memory would strike him. A memory that would have otherwise been locked away never to be remembered again had it not been for the tiniest little remnants of Elizabeth in them. Like this one, this tree. He remembered this large oak tree specifically because when his daughter was about three, just learning her footing and was able to remain by his side without sprinting off into carriage wheels, Elizabeth would sit and become fixated by the leaves that fell in autumn from the very tree itself.

Ernest sighed gently, letting the memory linger for as long as it would. His fingers thumbed the thin paper and he imagined it as a leaf between them. When she was that age Ernest would have to stop her from eating the leaves—the curious little brat. Sometimes he would turn his back on purpose to admire the new construction on some bank or library, so she could learn for herself what the yellows ones tasted like versus the red. When he would turn back the little Elizabeth would smile up at him, absolutely smothered—snuggled as if at home—in the pile of leaves, and satisfied beyond belief.

He fingered the edge of the paper again, remembering her big eyes staring up at him.

"Dad!"

Ernest jumped and looked up, shoving the paper to his lap. He looked at Charlie expectantly.

"Yes, son?"

"Did you listen to a single bloody thing I just said?" Exasperation in his voice prefaced a heavy breath.

Ernest paused for several moments, "No, son, I must not have been paying attention. What did you need?"

Charlie sighed, using his hands to pick up bits of the ceramic tea cup from the floor.

"I said that if it's alright I'll run down to the atelier to replace these cups before breakfast."

Ernest nodded and hummed, "Yes, of course, whatever you think is fair." He returned to his paper. Camilla glanced from her father-in-law to Charlie and shrugged. Charlie rolled his eyes and thanked Elsa for helping him clean.

"I think I'll join you, my love." Camilla jumped from the chair and wrapped her arms around Charlie's extended elbow.

"We'll be back, dad."

"Hmm." Ernest mumbled and continued to read. A silence filled the room again and when Ernest looked up again he was shocked to see Elsa staring back at him. "Yes, Elsa can I help you with something?"

Elsa huffed and tied the bag of broken dishes shut, "Nothing, sir." Then she shuffled out of the room without anything word.

"Miserable old…" Ernest grumbled and returned to his words. Two short minutes passed before a heavy rapping at the front door echoed down the hall. The rapping continued for several moments. "Elsa! Would you get that!" He yelled but the knocking continued still.

Ernest slammed his paper onto his desk and stood. "Miserable, good for nothing house keeper." He mumbled to himself and stomped down the hall. He opened the foyer door and saw two silhouettes in the clouded window, one still knocking.

"Yes, can I help y—" Ernest ripped open the door and saw only one man. It couldn't be…a man that looked quite similar to Ardeth, someone he had not thought about in months.

"Mister Whitmore?" The man asked with a thick accent. He glanced to the side and then back to Ernest.

"Yes?" Ernest felt his heart beat fluctuate and his internal temperature rise and cool simultaneously, his body anticipating something his mind could not interpret.

"Sir, I am Abdal, I am a friend of your daughters—Elizabeth."

Ernest visibly shook at the mention of his daughters name but quickly recovered. "Yes, how can I help you?" He repeated.

Abdal shifted his weight and sighed, he held up a finger and quickly stepped back down the steps of the stoop and around the corner. Ernest watched him for several moments before curiosity got the better of him. Without closing the door Ernest followed the man around the corner and saw his black robes flash down the alley. He sped up his step and paused at the entrance of the alley where he heard hurried Arabic. Then he heard a woman speaking.

Ernest's blood ran cold. He knew that voice. Quickly, almost tripping over his own two feet like his son, he rounded the corner and nearly stumbled again.

"Lizzy?" He choked out.

Elizabeth looked up from Abdal and her eyes widened. Fear filled her tearful eyes as she stared at her father, awaiting a reaction.

"Papa?" She said softly. Ernest nearly melted before rushing to her and crushing her fragile body in a hug, tears and sobs filling her hair and shoulder. Her father's body shook with sobs and Elizabeth, quickly overcome with a myriad of emotions, joined him. "I'm so sorry papa, this wasn't how I wanted you to find out."

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay."

* * *

Elizabeth stared at the tea cup in front of her as Elsa filled Abdal's and her father's cup. Elsa eyed her but assumed she would hear the rest of the story from around the corner, via eavesdrop—a skill she had become quite good at serving the Whitmore family all these years.

Abdal tapped his finger on the handle of the small cup and nodded, asserting that she should pick it up there. Elizabeth nodded gently and took a sip. The rush of warmth and spice and milk filled her chest and she felt comfort, it seemed like ages since the feeling had rested within.

"So," her father started, "What the hell happened?"

Elizabeth couldn't help but choke on her tea in a laugh. For the next hour she explained everything to the best of her ability, where she had forgotten Abdal filled in the gaps.

"Sounds like a fairy tale," Ernest remarked. "And Ardeth, I'm assuming since you're here you have decided not to pursue a relationship with him?" Her father was blunt sometimes, which she appreciated often—but now, not so much.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and glanced nervously at Abdal. "It's a bit tricky, father, if I'm honest."

"I see," her father hummed and downed the rest of his tea. Elizabeth shifted nervously. "Well, Abdal, how long you stayin' in England?"

Abdal cleared his throat, "I was actually planning to voyage out this evening, as I only wished to aid Elizabeth safety on her trip home."

"So you're staying here, Lizzy?" Her father questioned and she nodded.

"I see," Ernest repeated, before he could continue sounds of the front door opening and chatter between a man and a woman echoed off the main hall into the den. Elizabeth felt an anxiety swell up in her stomach as she recalled her brother's voice.

"Pop, they didn't have the exact matches so I bought a new set of—" As Charlie around the corner he paused dead step. Camilla, who had been looking at her husband as he spoke, only turned her head into the den that the pale sheet that blanketed Charlie's usually flush cheeks. When she turned to the table and spotted Elizabeth, she gasped and dropped the box with the new ceramic tea set.

"Bloody hell." Charlie fell into Camilla who caught him clumsily. Elizabeth jumped up and ran to her brother, afraid he may faint and ushered him to the chaise.

"Charlie, are you okay?" Elizabeth asked, checking his eyes. Charlie scoffed and glanced behind her at Abdal. Then his eyes came back to Elizabeth, his sister whom he'd watched die in the desert not a year prior. His hand raised and he gently grazed his fingertips over her cheek. The freckles mimicked on both their cheeks speckled through her still tanned skin and she felt solid to him.

"You're really here. I thought I had just dreamt of this moment, but here you are." Charlie wondered aloud and before he knew it Elizabeth had flown into his arms, her wild hair bestrewn in his face.

* * *

Elizabeth was upstairs in her bedroom and slowly changed out of the black robes she was buried in, which still clung to her body like sweat itself. She decided she would bathe later.

Afraid to look at herself in the mirror she opted to throw on dark blue woolen dress hung loose around her shoulders and hips. It had been her mother's. Anything to get out of those robes. When she descended the steps Abdal watched her wide eyed.

**_"What is it, Abdal?"_**

He chuckled, and fingered the fabric playfully,**_ "Nothing, I am just not used to you in such clothing." _**

**_"Too proper?" _**

**_"Far too proper." _**

The friends shared a laugh while her father watched from the doorway of his study, giving them a decent bit of privacy.

**_"This is where I leave you, my friend." _**Abdal said softly, placing a soft palm on her shoulder.

**_"Do not forget me?" _**Elizabeth asked of him.

**_"How could I forget the woman who saved my life?" _**Abdal insisted and quickly rushed to hug her. Though hugging was improper between their genders in most societies, between friends it was blasphemous not to. Especially between two friends who did not know whether they would see each other again or not.

**_"Try not to get shot again, my foolish friend." _**Elizabeth joked in his ear.

**_"Try not to die again, my cautious Elizabeth."_** He whispered.

Elizabeth chuckled and nodded, "I'll try my best." She watched his back descend down the steps to the side walk and down the road until he disappeared. And it was certain now, that any reminder of the Sahara, or Ardeth, had left with Abdal.

* * *

Elizabeth retired to the den with her father and brother, sitting down with a glass of whisky in front of her. The liquid was warm and didn't have the same bite as she remembered. Perhaps that was a good thing.

"So," Elizabeth cleared her throat, "Did I miss anything important?"

Charlie suddenly jolted upright in his chair, "My god, I _can't_ believe I forgot about the baby. Camilla!"

* * *

_**Let me know what you think!**_


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